


Distorted Reflections

by Lizardbeth



Category: Jeremiah - Fandom, Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Apocalypse, Crossover, Drama, Gen, Novel, Team, Tok'ra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 285,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching for the Lost City, Jack, Sam, Teal'c, and Daniel are trapped in a strange and frightening alternate Earth. Fifteen years ago a terrible disease killed the adults, leaving the children to fend for themselves. Now those children have grown up, and a war is brewing over who will control the future. SG-1 finds they'll have to fight and risk everything, if they hope to return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> by Lizardbeth and Lowri
> 
> __   
> **   
> **
> 
> **IMPORTANT: **This is technically a crossover with the t.v. series _Jeremiah_; however, **no knowledge** of the series is necessary. (if you only know SG-1, you can think of it as any other alien planet that SG-1 visits.)
> 
> This is a **NOVEL**, featuring the whole of SG-1, including Jack O'Neill. Originally posted at ff.net and livejournal in 2008.
> 
> Our inspiration came from the many actors who appeared in both shows. We tried to stay consistent to their characters in both. Some other familiar SG-1 characters also appear in this story, though they are not canon to the Jeremiah universe. For reference, we made a list, with small thumbnail images of the characters visible at our author website link.
> 
> **Continuity**:_SG-1_: Seventh season, immediately after "Chimera" and before "Death Knell".
> 
> _Jeremiah_: Before the two-part season finale of season 1 ("Things Left Unsaid"). There are also a few spoilers for the beginning of S.2, but the arrival of SG-1 into this universe also changes many things. We have kept to _Jeremiah_ canon where possible, but we also made a few adjustments to make the canons more closely parallel (particularly: we shifted the date of the Big Death back to 1989, and also the layout of Thunder Mountain more closely matches that of the SGC.)
> 
> Thanks to Cindy, Methos, Shallan, and Janet for being our guinea pigs and their helpful comments on our early drafts.
> 
> Special thanks to Kathryn Andersen who helped edit the first half into something resembling a final draft, to Grace, who carried on to the end, and to Laura who gave it the final read through.
> 
> Reviews/feedback are the coin of the realm and ALWAYS appreciated!

**Mar 15, 2004**

The wormhole dumped Jack and his team onto the surface of P6X-318, the latest world from the Ancients' database. Ever since Anubis had reared his ugly, incorporeal head, the SGC had been working nonstop to try and locate the lost city as well as any weapons left behind.

"Wow," Daniel muttered behind him, and for once, Jack was inclined to agree. The MALP imagery had not done the place justice.

Directly in front of them was a series of slender arches, one after another, each rising higher than the Stargate. They were made of a beige crystalline substance, dusty like everything else on the planet. The 'tunnel' made by the arches marched up to a slender spire made of the same material. It was difficult to tell exactly how tall the spire was, but it had to be at least three times the height of the nearest arch. Beyond the spire was a whole lot of nothingness.

"So, Carter, is it a big gun?" he asked, to break the silence.

She gave him a tolerant smile. "I have no idea, Colonel. Could be a big gun. It could just be ... pretty."

He snorted. "I doubt the Ancients built anything just to be pretty."

"They might have," Daniel muttered softly, but loud enough for Jack to hear.

Ignoring Daniel's comment, Jack got down to business. "All right, look sharp, people. We all remember the time travel doohickey -- let's try not to activate this thing before we know what it does. I'd rather not experience this morning fifty million times again."

He started down the steps at point, Daniel and Carter trailing him, and Teal'c at the rearguard. Though Jack didn't say anything, he was getting a little warning tingle at the back of his neck. Something wasn't right.

Some of his uneasiness was because of the barren landscape. Jack normally complained about trees, but there were none here. There was no vegetation at all, only dirt and rock stretching to the horizon. The sky was a hazy gray-blue, full of dust.

But he had the oddest sense of familiarity, combined with a feeling that it was not a place they should be.

"Sir?"

Carter's voice stirred him from his thoughts and he realized he was standing still, staring up at the top of the spire.

He shook his head once briskly to focus. "Sorry. Just trying to figure out how many marshmallows would fit on that stick."

Carter's eyes widened in disbelief while Daniel just frowned back at him, not buying the flippant remark.

The four proceeded under the arches, positioned so only one person was beneath an arch at a time. Daniel craned his neck trying to see directly beneath the first few arches. Jack had already looked. There were no carvings or images on the arches, but the base of the spire might hold some hints about the purpose of this place.

The breeze stirred wisps of sand and dust across their path, and for a while the wind was all that Jack could hear. But then he lifted his head and slowly turned. The sound was faint and high-pitched, like the whine of a distant whistle, and seemed to be coming from everywhere.

"Anyone else hear that?" he asked.

"Indeed, O'Neill," Teal'c answered then pointed at the spire. "I believe it is coming from there."

"It still has power." Carter looked around nervously.

"Nobody touch anything," Jack ordered. He continued to prowl forward warily. The wind picked up in strength, plucking at his clothes and nearly stealing his hat, and he froze. But it was only the wind.

One part of him scoffed at his caution. Nothing was happening and nothing was likely to happen.

The other part of him was convinced something was already happening. That it was, in fact, too late.

"Is it just me or are the arches glowing?" Daniel asked quietly, squinting upward.

Jack followed Daniel's gaze. The arches were glowing. They seemed to be taking on a reddish cast. Worse, the pinnacle of the spike was shining brightly, and he didn't think it was a reflection of the sunlight.

"Sir, the noise is getting louder and higher pitched. I think it's building a charge," Carter suggested, her voice raised above the strange noise and the wind.

The color was shifting, from red through orange and yellow to green. The light was bright within the arches, making the surface seem transparent.

This couldn't be good. Jack opened his mouth to order them back to the gate.

Lightning flashed, blinding him. As the white light seared across his vision, an electric tingle swept through his body. He wasn't able to finish the annoyed, resigned swearword that sprang to his mind before the brilliance abruptly went dark.

\---+---

Sam came to with a sneeze.

Alertness sprang back quickly, and she realized she was lying flat on her stomach on the hard ground, her P90 uncomfortable beneath her. As she sat up, she winced at the pain in her knees and hands, but nothing appeared to be broken, only bruised from hitting the ground.

"Colonel? Daniel? Teal'c?" she asked anxiously, seeing their sprawled forms on the path.

"I am unharmed, Major Carter," Teal'c reported, climbing to his feet. "You?"

"I'm fine. Daniel?"

He waved a hand, checked his glasses, and got to his feet, rubbing at his elbow.

O'Neill groaned and struggled upright. "What the hell was that train?" he muttered.

Sam looked around noting the unchanged surroundings. The arches were still softly glowing an eerie green, though the light seemed to be fading. She glanced at her watch to see how long they'd all been unconscious. "Colonel, I think we were only out for a few seconds."

O'Neill recovered his cap from the walkway and jammed it on his head. "Oo-okay," he drawled, "you'd think a weapon made by the Ancients would do more than knock us on our asses."

"It might not be a weapon," Daniel suggested. He squinted up at the spire. "Maybe it focused most of the energy out in space and we were … incidental?" He met her gaze and she shrugged.

Anything was possible. Without more evidence, she had no better idea than the rest of them. Given the massive size of this place she doubted that it was intended to do _nothing_, but whether it even still functioned properly was unknowable.

"Colonel?" she prompted, when he said nothing. Was he going to scrub the mission, or let them continue?

"Jack, we haven't even gotten to the spire yet," Daniel protested, but the colonel held up his hand to stop the incipient rant.

"I know all that. But, frankly, it doesn't look much like a Lost City to me," O'Neill commented. "And if this doohickey comes in a portable model I haven't seen it yet. Not to mention we have no idea what it just did. We might have blown up the sun."

"That, uh, seems unlikely, sir," Sam offered.

He rounded on her, and demanded sarcastically, "Oh? Then you know what it does?"

She had to shake her head and admit she didn't.

The colonel stiffened and a thoughtful expression filled his face. "The MALP's still recording, isn't it?"

She smiled, realizing why he was asking. "Yes, it must be. It probably has a record of what happened."

"Good. Back to the gate," he ordered and waved her and Daniel to go first. "We'll grab the MALP's tape, go home and see what happened." Daniel started to object and got cut off by the colonel's look. "No, Daniel. Let's be smart about this for a change, okay? We can always come back."

Daniel glanced at the center of the ruins and tried once more, "I think I see writing on the stones around the spike."

O'Neill slapped him on the shoulder. "It's been there for thousands of years. I think it'll survive for another day or two. I hate to be a party-pooper, but we're getting out of here."

He started back down the path and the others followed. Sam realized she was glad to leave. The place was creepy in its desolation, like a ghost town. She half-expected Anubis himself to come popping out between the arches.

She also didn't like the fact that the machine had built what must have been an immense power charge and only knocked them out for a few seconds. The anti-climax was ominous. An Ancient machine that big and complicated very likely did something equally big and complicated.

The breeze had blown a few strands of her hair into her face and she reached up to push it aside. But her hair resisted her efforts. She realized it wasn't a breeze, it was static electricity. She turned to look at the arches and noticed that the green hue was shifting color again.

"Sir," she shouted. "It's building another charge."

He didn't hesitate. "Go! Grab the tape if you can. Daniel, dial."

They ran. With the skill honed by numerous gate extractions under fire, they knew what to do: Sam ran to the MALP, with O'Neill behind her, but watching over his shoulder anxiously. She pushed the button, and had to wait until the tape ejected, noticing a flash of green coming up through the dirt. It suggested that part of the machine was buried beneath them as well. The size of it was staggering.

She heard the whine of the charge building as an undernote to the louder sound of the gate spinning.

Daniel hit the last glyph and slammed the red dome, and the wormhole opened.

"Code in. Let's go!" O'Neill shouted.

"The tape!" she made one try to stay and wait for it, but O'Neill's hand was on her shoulder, pushing her toward the gate.

"No time! Go!"

She didn't argue, not when the ground was starting to glow. She ran.

Up the three steps to the platform. Still nothing struck them down, and there was no flash of light. She kept going, right into the wormhole behind O'Neill and Daniel, with Teal'c at her back.

She smiled in relief as she entered. They were safe.

Or so she thought, until the wormhole dumped her out the other end.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack left the swirling motion of the wormhole to meet -- nothingness. After a second of delay his feet hit a hard surface, but his decrepit knees refused to hold him upright. He fell forward, his hands keeping his face out of ... water? His eyes encountered blue ceramic tile, the kind mostly used in fountains and swimming pools. Turning his head, he saw a white marble-looking figure of a woman holding a pitcher with water cascading downwards. Her head was missing. Shifting his eyes forward once more, he saw his cap floating, so he picked it up, dumped the water out, and placed it onto his head. Tiny droplets slid down his face.

Splash! His teammates came through behind him and also landed in the water. Jack scrambled to his feet, noticing for the first time all the people gawking at him. Some were standing next to tables, half-eaten food still sitting on trays. Others were off to the side, next to an array of carts overflowing with plants. One woman was hiding behind what looked to be a tree in a pot. It was most definitely _**not**_ the gateroom, unless there had been some serious redecorating in the last two hours. Daniel must have misdialed.

Yet it was the gateroom. The room was the same large hall, with the Stargate against the back wall with the same plain gray paint and the briefing room observation window up high on the opposite wall. But there was no control room window. Instead the space was open, containing what looked like a cafeteria food line. A cafeteria? Some other planet had built their gateroom almost exactly like the SGC's, and then decorated it completely differently?

Still, it didn't matter at the moment. These people were looking stunned and alarmed, especially one little girl who was staring with terrified eyes, clutching at her mother. Nobody appeared to have weapons, but he needed to put them at ease before somebody did something stupid.

"Howdy folks," he announced. "Looks like we're in time for lunch," he added trying to lighten the mood. The little girl yelped, and her mother turned, shielding the girl with her body.

"Sir?" Carter nudged him. "This is the embarkation room, but it's not _**ours**_."

The confirmation was not what he wanted to hear. Jack looked from face to face, wondering who was going to step forward and take charge. For a moment, no one did. They all stared fearfully and backed away. Then they separated, letting a man and a woman approach the fountain. To his surprise, he immediately recognized the young woman, even though she wasn't in uniform and her long blonde hair was loose, instead of in its regulation ponytail. She was the helm officer on the _Prometheus_. "Major Gant?" With disbelief, he also recognized the tall man with the short brown hair and purposeful stride, though what the man was doing here, Jack couldn't imagine. "Malek?"

"Sir?" Carter whispered. "That isn't Malek."

"Sure it is." Jack looked at him again and he had no doubts at all. Malek was wearing a button-front, dark blue shirt over a gray T-shirt and tan pants, not the more usual brown Tok'ra uniform, but the face was the same. Jack had first met him last year when they'd all gotten attacked by the ashrak and they'd had enough dealings since that he certainly hadn't forgotten.

Carter shook her head, "No, it isn't. I don't sense, uh, junior."

Jack blinked. No symbiote. Malek without the snake?

The man who closely resembled Malek came to the edge of the fountain, ignoring Gant's whispered caution. When he spoke, it was definitely a human tone. Unlike everyone else in this place, he didn't seem afraid of his unexpected visitors, but his gaze was intent on them. "Welcome to Thunder Mountain. I'm Markus Alexander."

"Colonel Jack O'Neill. This is Major Samantha Carter, Doctor Daniel Jackson and the big guy is Murray," Jack hedged, suddenly feeling the need to hide Teal'c's identity until he had better assessed the situation. "We're on Earth, right?"

Markus stiffened then gave a nervous chuckle. "Yes, this is Earth."

"What's today's date?" Jack asked.

Markus wore a slight smile as if he was humoring a way-ward child, yet he answered hesitantly, "March 15, 2004. Monday."

At least the day was right, Jack thought. They hadn't traveled through time. Though whether that was a good thing or not, he wasn't sure yet. "And this is Cheyenne Mountain?"

"We call it Thunder Mountain, but yes," Major Gant spoke, and it sounded like her. But Jack knew the major had a twin, so that wasn't saying much.

"O'Neill," Teal'c sloshed up so he stood next to Jack. "I believe the device on P6X-318 shifted our reality."

Jack sighed dramatically, then added, "So you're saying we're not in Kansas anymore?"

Teal'c's eyebrow rose. "The SGC is in Colorado, not Kansas."

Jack couldn't find anything to add. He looked at the faces of the non-Tok'ra and the not-Major, and realized with a cold feeling that had nothing to do with his wet clothes that getting back home was not going to be easy. Why couldn't the damn Ancients have stuck to Stargates, instead of building these time shifting things that never worked? Next time he saw a ruined Ancient place in a briefing, he'd give the mission to that smart ass Dixon and his team. Let somebody else get stuck for once.

"Wouldn't you like to get out of the water and into some dry clothes?" Markus offered.

"Markus, what's going on?" An Asian-featured man asked quietly, as he came up to flank Markus. He was staring at SG-1 -- not in fear, but with a strange intensity that Jack couldn't read.

Markus just shook his head once, not answering.

"So, who's in charge here?" Jack asked, stepping out of the fountain and shaking the water off his boots. Gant backed away a step, before recovering herself and returning to her position.

Markus responded, "I am."

"You?" Jack retorted, surprised. "Last I knew this was a military installation, and you --"

"Jack?" Daniel interrupted. "In case it's escaped your notice, there's no military here at all. In fact, I think everyone in here is younger than I am."

Jack scanned the room. Daniel was right. Most were young adults with a few frightened children. There was nobody who looked older than thirty. His jaw slackened.

"I think a lot has changed since you were here last," Markus told them.

"And I suppose you're not Major Gant?" Jack directed at her.

"My name is Erin," she paused, then added reluctantly, "Gant. I'm Markus' right hand. But I'm definitely not in the military."

"Sure you are. Third generation. Great pilot, too," Jack added for effect.

Teal'c spoke as he climbed gracefully over the edge. "Indeed. I had the privilege of flying with you aboard the _Prometheus_."

Erin looked more disturbed by this information than flattered. "What's that thing on your forehead?" Erin asked.

"It shows that I was the first prime --"

"It was a college fraternity initiation stunt," Daniel interrupted, before Teal'c could finish. "You know those Greeks," he added with a weak laugh, "Now it won't come off."

"He called you Doctor Jackson," Erin shifted her attention to him "Does that mean you're a medical doctor?"

Daniel shook his head in sheepish apology. "No, sorry. Archaeologist."

Jack glanced at Markus to see what he thought. Arms folded, the Tok'ra-less Markus seemed to be listening closely. Jack realized that he was letting Erin ask all the questions so he could watch them, doing the same thing Jack was by letting Daniel talk.

"Come," Markus beckoned Carter and Daniel out of the water, apparently having had enough of the introductions.

Jack's feet squished in his boots as he and his team grouped together outside of the fountain.

Markus nodded once at the man at his side. "May I ask you to give Lee Chen, my chief of security, your packs and weapons. We promise to give it all back when you leave."

Jack tightened his hold on the P90. He didn't want to give it up, yet he knew that if these people wanted to imprison or kill them, eventually they would succeed. Their numbers were too great an advantage. However, alien technology didn't belong in the hands of those who didn't even realize it was alien. Carter and Teal'c's zats simply looked too much like guns, so they would have to go, but giving them Teal'c's staff was out of the question. It was very powerful, and yet too easy to activate and use. Setting off a zat accidentally was unlikely to kill, but a staff weapon could.

"Fine," he agreed with a nod. Daniel and Carter handed their guns to Lee Chen. Carter also handed over her zat, murmuring to Chen to be careful with it. Jack passed across his P90, sidearm, and knife, all of which received a quick glance before being set on one of the tables. Teal'c handed his zat to O'Neill to give to Chen. They all shrugged out of their packs and set them on the ground, and at Jack's gesture, added their vests to the pile. Then Jack said brightly, "That's everything."

He stood in front of Teal'c, trying to convey by body language that he was not to hand over the staff. Maybe these people wouldn't realize it was a weapon.

"And the big stick?" Lee demanded.

"No," Jack refused, staring at Markus with determination. "That belongs to Murray, he gets to keep it. We handed you everything else, including our guns, that's sufficient."

The Thunder Mountain leader paused, watching Jack, then acquiesced. "This way." He turned to Lee and added, "Clean up here, please. Take their things to the security office."

Jack looked around. What he had taken to be decorative plants along the side of the room were actually carts with shelves of plants, lights, and tubes in some sort of hydroponic gardening system. One cart had been destroyed by the wormhole's vortex. The recognizable pieces of M-16 rifles, wrapped in plastic bags, were lying on the floor, next to the toppled trays. They must have been hidden within the water tubes. Jack looked appraisingly at Markus who returned his look with bland openness, as if it was an everyday thing for guns to be hiding in hydroponic gardens. But Jack wasn't fooled. Markus' direct gaze was suspiciously similar to Malek's -- revealing on the surface, but with his true thoughts tucked away.

SG-1 followed after Markus, with Erin bringing up the rear, to the elevator and up to the corridors of level 18. O'Neill was intrigued as he got a good look around. It was very strange. The corridor had the familiar markings, lights, and conduits hanging at the ceiling, and yet when he caught a glimpse inside some of the open doors, he saw beds, pictures, and curtains. He wondered what he would see if they went to the other corridor and opened the door for Daniel's office. "Look at this place. Offices are now living quarters. Wonder how your lab's changed, Carter."

She was also staring around and added, "Or the briefing room. It has such a nice view over the, uh, commissary."

Daniel slowed so he was walking next to Erin. "So what happened?"

"Happened?" Erin parroted blankly.

Daniel continued, "Yeah. This was a military base -- and part of NORAD. Now it's home for a group of young adults and kids. So something happened."

Erin stopped and gave him an incredulous look, as though he had proclaimed his ignorance that the Earth was round. "The Big Death happened," she responded curtly.

Jack stopped. "Big Death? What's that?"

She exchanged an uncertain glance with Markus, who nodded his permission. "A virus," she answered.

Daniel was wide-eyed. "Some sort of plague? How many people?"

Markus answered, in a very calm, level voice, "Billions. No one knows exactly how many. Only the adults died. Anyone under the age of puberty survived."

"Oh my God," Carter whispered, taking the words right out of Jack's mouth.

It was unthinkable. It couldn't be true. It had to be a really terrible joke. Yet, when he looked at Markus and Erin, they weren't smiling. They didn't seem to be making it up. Jack did some calculations in his head, based on the ages of the people he'd seen. "So then this epidemic was, what, fifteen, twenty years ago?"

"Fifteen," Markus answered.

Jack whistled. "That's a long time ago. Only kids were left? It must be chaos outside."

"It is," Markus replied shortly. He continued down the corridor and then stopped at a room Jack knew as Balinsky's office. "Here are the rooms. I suggest Major Carter take this one."

Carter responded with a smile, "Thank you, Markus. Call me Sam."

"Sam. There're clothes in the drawers; hopefully something will fit you." He led the way to the next office. "This one also has an assortment of clothes. Down the hall a ways is a bathroom. Water is scarce, so please don't waste it."

Carter nodded in understanding. "Water is scarce where we come from too. It seems that there's never enough precipitation and the runoff hasn't been able to fill the reservoirs."

"I assume you had electricity to pump the water from the reservoirs to the mountain. We don't even have that," he replied. "I'll send Sarah in about fifteen minutes. She handles newcomer integration and orientation. She'll give you a tour. Feel free to ask questions. We'll talk later, after you've seen our home."

Markus said the words politely, but Jack detected the steel. He was very protective of this place. Despite that, he wasn't locking them in the brig, though that was what Jack expected and would have done to anyone who came waltzing in through _**his**_ Stargate.

Carter went into her room, and Markus and Erin waited until the three men had stepped into theirs. Jack waited a few moments and then pulled open the door again, to see if he could. The door wasn't locked, and Markus and Erin were gone. But Jack noticed two young men lingering in the nearest intersection, who turned at the sound of the door opening. So, there were guards after all.

Their presence meant Markus was no fool. He was granting leniency -- purposefully giving the four newcomers a long leash, to see if they would prove their friendship or hang themselves with it.

Jack closed the door again. There were two sets of bunkbeds, two wooden chests of drawers, a wardrobe, and a metal desk. "So, let's see what's in these cupboards." Jack began opening drawers, finding them all stuffed with old clothes. Apparently this room was some sort of storage closet as well as guestroom. He found a pile of fatigues and t-shirts, marked with the insignia of various Army battalions. "They must have looted Fort Carson for all this. But why is there nothing Air Force?"

"Perhaps the 'good stuff' has already been chosen," Teal'c suggested.

Jack turned in surprise. "Was that a joke, Teal'c?"

"An observation," Teal'c responded, without a flicker of a smile, no matter how hard Jack looked.

Daniel and Teal'c changed into the Army surplus. Jack was hanging on for something he could live with. Daniel opened the wardrobe and inside was an Air Force dress blue uniform, which Jack started to try on until he realized that it came with a skirt. Muttering obscenities, he shucked his wet outfit and threw on BDU's with Airborne patches, as a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Jack called out, and Carter slipped in. She had found a worn Air Force Academy T-shirt and jeans. Why did she have all the luck?

She eye'd Teal'c, who hadn't found anything with a smile and then turned to Jack. "I've been thinking."

Jack couldn't stifle the groan.

She ignored it. "Markus said that the adults died from the Big Death, but not that they **all** died. We might have a problem if any of our doubles are here."

"Entropic cascade failure," Daniel volunteered. "I'm feeling okay. Didn't it hit Doctor Carter right away?"

She answered, "Yes, but I was in the same room. Proximity is likely a factor. In this reality we have no idea where our doubles could be or if they exist. No one seemed to recognize us, but I get the impression these people don't get out much."

Jack agreed. "We'll have to wait and see."

He thought for a moment about the idea of the Earth's population decimated by a virus. How had the children who had survived the virus managed fifteen years on their own? It was mind-boggling and chilling to imagine, a whole world of the Lost Boys from _Peter Pan_. Or _Lord of the Flies._

Carter broke the sudden silence. "I was thinking in 1989, I was at Vandenberg. Where were you, Colonel?"

Jack knew what she was getting at. "I was recovering from a parachute accident. At the Pentagon," Jack made a disgusted face. "The longest six months of my life. I swore I'd never have a desk job again. What about you, Daniel?"

Daniel frowned, thinking back. "In '89, I was, um, in Peru. At a dig. That was where I first saw symbols I recognized from Egypt -- they were Goa'uld, I know now -- and started to put together my crackpot theory of alien visitation." He rolled his eyes and shrugged a little, now able to treat lightly what had earned him the scorn of his colleagues, even though he was right.

"And we know where you were, 'Murray'," Carter said. "Assuming the previous timeline is close to ours, I suspect you and Daniel are the most likely to have doppelgangers in this reality, if any of us. Your other selves were isolated, and might have escaped the disease."

"I shall be on guard for symptoms of entropic cascade failure," Teal'c declared. Daniel nodded.

But they all knew from Doctor Carter's visit that ultimately the only cure would be to get back to their own reality. Which they had yet to talk about, but Jack knew it wasn't going to be easy. No Quantum Mirror this time.

There was a knock and the team fell silent and turned. An attractive, lanky blonde entered the room with a wide, welcoming smile. The smile slipped only a little when she saw them, no doubt surprised by their age. "Hello, I'm Sarah. I'm in charge of orientation. Markus told me you've just arrived."

"I don't know about you folks," Jack straightened his shirt and sidled up to Sarah, determined to worm some useful intel from her. "But I'm eager for that tour and orientation spiel. Been known to give it myself in my day. Like to know how things have changed." As SG-1 entered the hall, Jack noticed the guards were waiting for them, and fell in behind as they began the tour.

She led them through corridors that were familiar yet different from what they were used to seeing. Inside the workout room, Jack asked, "So, what did happen?" he asked. "I mean, here, to let you kids stay? And how did Markus end up in charge of the place?"

Her steps faltered to a stop and she got a distant look on her face. "Our parents brought us in when the Big Death started to sweep the country, because it was safer in here. Markus' father wasn't military, but he was here as a doctor, a specialist on the disease. There were about one hundred of us -- kids, I mean -- when Major Quantrell ordered the base sealed. But it was too late. All the adults died anyway."

Her voice was matter-of-fact, telling the story without any obvious sadness or horror. Jack thought that was the most terrible part of it.

"And Markus?" he prompted.

She smiled, glad to tell him this part, and she looked very earnest as she explained, "He was the oldest. And he's brilliant. He already knew how to run the computer system. Right after the Big Death, he kept us alive." She shrugged a little. "But he knew we weren't big enough a group to survive, so we began to slowly make our way outside and bring people in to join us."

"And fifteen years later he's still in charge?" Jack asked, brows arched, a little suspicious.

Her smile faded and her eyes hardened, even though she answered with a light tone, "We won't let him go. Come, this way. I'll show you the infirmary."

She started down the hall. Daniel gave Jack a chiding look, to which Jack shrugged. They weren't going to learn the lay of the land if they didn't push a little bit.

Carter hurried after her, "The infirmary? Really? It's still intact?"

"Yes, it is," Sarah replied. "We don't need it all that often, thankfully. Childbirth and accidents, mostly."

Jack thought back to the little girl in the gateroom and realized of course these grown up children were having children of their own.

"If the adults died, how did you manage without doctors?" Daniel asked.

"Books and the computer. Learning by doing. It's all we have. We had no one to teach us," Sarah told them, not looking at Jack. "All the older kids had to teach the younger. We all do our share. That's how it works here."

Daniel nodded. He looked rather gut-punched by what they'd heard. "You're still here, and that strikes me as a pretty big achievement all on its own."

Thawed out by Jackson charm, she found a smile for him again. "It wasn't easy, especially in the early days. But we managed. Fixing the equipment that broke proved to be the biggest challenge."

"Is there anything that needs fixing now?" Carter volunteered. "I know the base systems, and I'd be willing to help you out."

Jack rolled his eyes, wishing she had kept her mouth shut. But he should've known -- Carter was unable to see a big tech mess without wanting to make it better.

"Really?" Sarah asked. "That would be a big help. We'd better go see Markus."

The two women went speeding down the hall. Jack was a little slower to follow, disappointed that the tour was over. He'd hoped to see the briefing room.

It didn't take long for him to realize he was going to get his wish, as Sarah took them there anyway. It had the same large glass window overlooking the embarkation room or rather, the hydroponics lab and commissary. The same American flag was standing in the corner. Yet the partition for the general's office was gone, leaving one large room. There was a desk against the window, holding a collection of small pots of African violets and the computer terminal from the control room had moved next to it. A small round table had replaced the rectangular one of the briefing room, and the other walls were lined with bookshelves, a couch, filing cabinet, small refrigerator, and a wide credenza piled with books, papers, and a coffee pot. There were children's drawings taped to the walls -- something he didn't think Hammond would have approved.

"I'll go find Markus and tell him you want to speak with him. Wait here," she told them as she left.

Jack had to open the door again to see if the security detail had stayed or gone with Sarah. They were there, casually leaning against the opposite wall. Jack nodded to them and closed the door.

Carter had gone over to the computer and was frowning at it.

"What is it, Carter?" he asked, standing behind her. "It doesn't look dangerous, but I've been fooled before."

She smiled a little. "Do you realize how old this system is? You think it works?" She touched keys and the main screen and some other panels lit up. "It all works. That's amazing." She bent closer. "Look, this terminal's still connected to the mainframe upstairs. I wonder if the Big Board is on? Maybe some of the satellites in orbit are still functional."

Jack couldn't see how dying satellites were of any use to them, and turned away. Daniel was perusing the books on the shelves, while Teal'c had taken a seat at the table.

"So, anybody think they're lying?" Jack asked as he sat next to Teal'c.

Carter shook her head and answered from the computer. "Clearly **something** happened. Otherwise this base would still be in military hands and the technology would be more modern."

"It's horrible but it has to be true," Daniel agreed. "This is some alternate reality in which over half the entire population of the Earth was wiped out by a disease. Why would they make it up?" he added, sitting by Jack.

Jack gave him a look and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Daniel. They're led by a guy who we know as a Tok'ra. How could that happen?"

"Well, obviously, the answer is that Malek's host in our reality is Markus. So the real question is how did Malek come to Earth without anyone knowing about it?" Daniel asked. He'd never met Malek back in their reality, so the similarity didn't seem to bother Daniel as much as it did Jack.

"Malek's host may not be Markus Alexander," Teal'c suggested. "We have no evidence that the Tok'ra visited Earth before Jolinar took Major Carter as host."

Jack's snorted. "Right. So you're saying that Markus and this host of Malek's are part of some cosmic genetic twinning? Like a doppelganger? I'm not buying it. They lied to us." He leaned forward and banged his head on the table once. Damn Tok'ra. He straightened, pointing out in a more controlled voice, "All the times we've met him, Malek was the only one who ever talked. His host never spoke to us directly. Maybe it was because he had something to hide. I can't wait to get home and call him on it."

"Sir, I don't think we're getting home any time soon," Carter said in a voice of strained patience as she joined them at the table. "First, their computer capacity is at least fifteen years old. I could try to program it to dial, or we could dial manually, but the problem is power. If they don't have enough to get the water out of the reservoir, that means they're not attached to the main grid. They must be using only the base generators. I have no idea of their current load capacity, but I can't imagine it's very high."

"Carter, even I know the gate doesn't take all that much to open," Jack objected. "I'm sure they can spare us a little. They've kept the lights on."

"Yes," she answered, humoring him. "But you heard what Sarah said about fixing things. The whole system may be very unstable. As we know, if there's no power, the base is unlivable in the long term."

Jack made a disgruntled sound. "Pessimist. You could fix it."

"Colonel, I would need parts, at the very least, and fuel. Those may be in very short supply," she reminded him and let out a loud breath. "Look, I'm not trying to be a pessimist, but this isn't a matter of plugging in the Stargate and dialing home. The base has been decaying for fifteen years. In fact, I'm amazed that anything still runs at all. Given current conditions, I don't know that I can fix it."

She paused and added, more softly, "We could be stuck here a very long time."


	3. Chapter 3

After Markus and Erin had left the four newcomers to get changed out of their wet clothes, they had briefed Sarah and then gone directly to his office. Markus slumped in his seat, raking his hands through his hair. His morning had been spent in meetings. Everything had been mind-numbingly _normal. _Now this. A previously harmless cafeteria decoration had woken up and dumped four old people into his lap. As if he didn't have enough to deal with already.

"What do you think?" he asked Erin.

She paced around the room, alternately waving her hands or folding her arms in a distinctly agitated manner. "Where should I begin? Watching them walk out of thin air? Being called _Major_ Gant? How could they possibly know about my mom and grandfather?"

Markus shrugged.

"Then there's seeing what we thought was an Egyptian relic turn into a secret entrance into the mountain," she went on.

He'd assumed it was a relic, but looking back, he realized that didn't actually make any sense. "Why would the government store an artifact in a military base? They must have had some kind of inkling it was more than it seemed."

"Do you know how long it's been here?"

He shook his head. "Since before the Big Death, but that's all I know. There were no computer files on it that I could find, so I suspect it was here a long time."

Silence fell and the two friends looked at each other. Markus waited her out, wanting to hear what was worrying her the most.

"Do you think they're from Valhalla Sector?" Erin asked with a tremor in her voice.

"I hope not. They found it very easy to get in here. How can we guard against that?" Markus asked rhetorically. He knew Erin wouldn't have an answer.

Erin shook her head, hugging herself as if she were cold. "Aren't you freaked out that they think you're someone called Malek?"

"I don't know. At first I just assumed it was mistaken identity. But now that I've had time to think about it ..." He shrugged, not knowing what to think. If they knew enough about Erin to know her family back two generations, why _didn't_ they know who he was? His identity wasn't a big secret, not these days. Who was "Malek" anyway and what did he have to do with Thunder Mountain?

But he wasn't as frightened by it as she was, and he took a moment to wonder why that was. It wasn't like he was any more used to people dropping into his home through what looked suspiciously like some sort of inter-dimensional vortex. Maybe it was the mere fact that he _could _put a name to what the thing might be. Or maybe, he realized with a little amusement, that queasy feeling in his stomach was actually sheer terror and he just wasn't giving it the right name.

"What are we gonna do with them?" she asked.

That was the real question, wasn't it? But he didn't see that he had much choice. "In our position we have to utilize every resource. They could help us."

"Or hurt us badly," Erin reminded. "I don't trust them," she stated darkly.

"I never said I trusted them. They have to earn our trust. However, I will give them the opportunity to prove themselves. Under careful supervision, of course. The question is, what do they want with us?"

"They came to spy."

He chuckled once. "Now you sound like Lee." She stiffened, offended, but he held up a hand. "That's not a bad thing. You could be right."

But Markus wouldn't let himself think so negatively. Their reactions suggested they had come here by accident. Whether it was true or not, they weren't acting hostile, and they had given over their weapons without a fight. Except the big staff. He felt sure it was a weapon, but not like anything he had ever seen. He wondered why O'Neill refused to hand it over and just how risky it was to let Murray keep it.

Markus stood up. Best to get this over with. "Come, let's see how the tour is progressing. We need to know how they got here."

"You go," Erin answered. "I was supposed to go meet Elizabeth --"

He cut in gently, "That's okay, Erin. I know they make you nervous. I won't force you to spend time with them."

She gave him a wan smile. "You're going to have to call a council meeting. Too many people saw them arrive. Word is going to be all over the mountain by dinner."

"I think you underestimate the speed of gossip," he retorted lightly, but he knew she was right. "Okay, make it for seventeen hundred. We might as well get it done before dinner."

She grimaced. "Good thing I wasn't going to eat anyway. I hear cabbage is on the menu."

Markus chuckled and left his office. But instead of searching out the new arrivals, he went to talk to Meaghan. She was older and wiser than he and he wanted her insight into this new problem. On level 19, he checked the corridor to make sure he wasn't being observed and unlocked the door to the restricted portion of the base. Closing the door carefully behind him, he walked through the silent halls until he reached the door to hazmat isolation lab one. He entered the code on the number pad for access, and went inside.

The room was divided in half by a glass window. The half he stood in was dim, bare and gray, with an unused terminal console by the back wall, and a small table and single chair he'd brought near the glass. The other half was Meaghan's room, brightly lit and as cheerful as it could be with a colorful spread on the bed, a pot of African violets he'd given her on the desk, and two posters he'd found for her: one of a sunset and the other of a forest scene. It was his sad, near pathetic attempt to give her something of the outdoors, which she hadn't seen for fifteen years. He couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt that she was trapped in this biosafety prison, while he was able to walk free

But she was a carrier of the Big Death virus, able to spread it to anyone she touched, and until he could find a way to cure her, she had to stay inside. She had to remain a secret, too. Erin had found out about her a few months ago and had almost revealed Meaghan's presence publicly, until Markus had talked her out of it. Widespread knowledge that the Big Death still lurked on level 19 would precipitate a panic, and he doubted either Meaghan or himself would survive it.

She came near the glass that divided them, with an expression that couldn't decide whether to be pleased to see him or worried. "Markus, how unexpected. You never come here in the middle of the day."

"Something happened. I need to talk to you." Markus sat down in the battered gray government-issue chair closest to the window and steepled his index fingers across his lips. "I don't think I mentioned this to you before, but after the Big Death, we found this huge, two story stone ring in the cafeteria under a tarp. The committee in charge of the cafeteria wanted to construct a fountain using a marble figure of some Grecian goddess and the ring framing it. So I let them. It seemed harmless enough."

She raised her brows and repeated, "'Seemed'?"

"A little over an hour ago, the inner ring started to turn and some of its decorations lit up. Luckily the people closest to it moved away, since it spouted out some sort of high-energy matter from the middle, annihilating everything in its path. And then…" he paused, remembering. He'd seen it from his office window, how the matter stream had been pulled back and the space within the ring had glittered like the sunlight on water. It was one of the most amazing things he'd ever seen.

He told her about the four visitors and finished with the only explanation he had so far: "They claimed to come from an alternate reality."

"Really? Wow, that's a new one." Meaghan smiled, joking, then realized that he was taking it seriously. "You don't believe them, do you?"

He shrugged. "I know it's theoretically possible to have different quantum dimensions."

"That's more your thing than mine, but really, Markus, it sounds like they're making it up. Alternate realities? What next? Maybe they're aliens in disguise," she rolled her eyes. "What did they say of the Big Death?"

"They'd never heard of it. And they weren't making up their shock, I'm sure of it."

She wandered briefly away, thinking, and then circled back to the window. "Makes you wonder what the hell that ring is." She shrugged her shoulders and she looked pensive.

Markus prompted in concern, "What is it?"

"I was thinking… I could meet her. Sam Carter. I should be able to figure out if she's telling the truth. If she's my age, I should be able to trip her up."

That was the reason Meaghan was giving, but looking into her warm eyes, he knew it wasn't the only reason. She hadn't met another person her own age, especially another woman, in a very long time.

"I could bring her here," he offered.

She shook her head abruptly, changing her mind. "No, it's not a good idea. We don't know them. We don't know if they can keep a secret, especially one this big. Forget I mentioned it."

"They're strangers," Markus agreed, but he was thinking. "But that works for us. They have no reason to tell anyone here about you. And, of course, I don't have to let them leave if I don't believe they'll keep the secret outside."

"I don't know; it seems very risky." Then she found a smile for him and put her hand flat on the glass. "Besides, I don't want you to think that I want someone else's company."

He returned her smile and matched her hand, wishing he knew what it would be like to touch her just once. But as he considered, he realized that he would like to give her something that she wanted. He couldn't give her the outdoors, at least not yet, but this he could. "Everything is a risk, isn't it? Opening the doors to the outside was a risk. Having that big ring was a risk and we didn't even know it. I'm willing to take the chance, if you are."

She thought about it then nodded. "I would like to talk to her, if you can arrange it."

"I think so," he answered, but didn't move from his chair. The visitors through the ring were an added complication to his life that was already complex enough.

"Just take it one day at a time," Meaghan tried to reassure him.

"Thank you for your help. I'd better go back. I'm sure someone must be looking for me."

"That's because you're the most popular man around."

He laughed, enjoying her teasing tribute, and took his leave.

After meeting briefly with Sarah to get her impressions, Markus went to talk to his guests. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and boldly walked in. All four were sitting around the table, but the computer had been turned on. Markus fought against the instinct to jump to conclusions. His terminal had a satellite phone port and these visitors could have been calling for reinforcements. He saw no evidence of a phone in their scavenged clothes, and no one flinched as he entered. He decided not to mention the computer and see where the discussion would go. "Hello. Sarah tells me that you have things you'd like to discuss with me."

Markus leaned against the bookshelf, purposefully not sitting down so he would have a better angle to watch their expressions. This would, he thought, be the start of learning whether he could trust them "But first, I have questions for you," he began and pointed across the office toward the window and the ring beyond it. "I'll start with the obvious one -- what is that?"

Sam glanced at her commanding officer. He hesitated and then nodded his permission.

She answered, "It's called a Stargate. With enough power and the right computer program, it will form a stable wormhole that allows nearly instantaneous travel to other gates just like it spread across the galaxy."

He frowned. "But you said you came from an alternate reality, not another planet."

Sam shared another look with her commander. He rubbed his forehead, gave a deep sigh, and then waved her to continue. "What the hell," he muttered.

"In our reality, we're part of a team that explores through the Stargate," Sam explained. "While we were on another planet, we got caught in an alien device. We didn't think it had done anything to us, but when we tried to go home, we ended up here instead. I'm pretty sure the device shifted our quantum reality to yours." She looked up at him curiously when he didn't ask any questions or look confused. "I'm surprised you would know anything about the concept."

He gave a little shrug, "I used to watch _Star Trek._" He saw her smile at the reference, unconsciously categorizing what he knew on par with the other children of the Big Death. It never hurt to have potential enemies underestimate one's abilities. To hide his satisfaction, he walked over to his desk and looked at the big ring. But his amusement died away at the implications. The ring could allow travel to other planets. Thunder Mountain could find a new world where they could build a free society without the threat of Valhalla Sector and others like them. The idea was enticing with its possibilities. But that would be abandoning the people outside to their fate, and he couldn't do that. It was time to stand up, not run away. So he turned his back on the "stargate" and faced the four again. "Is that why you were looking at my computer, to see if you could use it for the Stargate?"

She lowered her eyes, looking a little shame-faced. "Yes. Sorry. It's pretty old and I'm not sure if I can get it to work, but I'd like to try."

Markus wasn't willing to give them that much trust. He needed more from them. "It's alien, isn't it?"

"How did you guess?" O'Neill answered with sarcasm.

"It's very old, I know that much about it," Markus answered. "If it can do what you say, then it's a much higher level technology than Earth ever achieved. We're too primitive."

"Less advanced," Jack muttered.

Sam smiled at Markus. "You seem to be handling the revelation well."

Markus couldn't smile back and gave another shrug. "It doesn't change anything. Even if you can get it to work and return where you come from, we're hardly in a position to go with you. We've got to rebuild this world, before we go looking for trouble on others."

"That's smart." Daniel nodded. "Because there is trouble."

"Oh yeah," O'Neill agreed emphatically and waved a hand toward the gate. "All kinds of big, honkin' dangerous trouble out there."

"So I presumed from your weapons." Markus purposefully let his gaze linger on Murray's staff leaning against the bookshelf, then pulled the computer chair out to sit. He had the general outline now of how they'd come here and who they were, enough to move on to more pressing issues. "This is all very interesting, and I'd like to talk about it some more later, but for now, I'd ask you to keep the truth to yourself."

"Sure, we can do that," O'Neill answered. "No problem."

"Other than fiddling with my computer, what do you need to get it to work again?" Markus asked.

"I don't know that we can," Sam answered. "It needs to be attached to some sort of power source. I'd have to see what sort of capacity you have."

"How much energy does it need?" he asked.

Hesitantly, as if unsure that he would understand what she was saying, she answered, "No less than 500 kilowatts."

Markus inwardly winced. He shouldn't have asked. This was a worse problem than he had thought. He knew exactly the capacity of the power generators and the mountain's needs. He knew the system's fragility. He'd been expecting something closer to ten thousand kilowatts, so he could deny them without qualm, not so little. What they wanted was possible, but it was also dangerous, in ways they couldn't understand.

Jack wheedled, "It's not very much…"

"Perhaps not to you," Markus answered and took a careful breath, looking at each of them. "I understand that the stargate is your only way home, and I sympathize. But I'm sorry, I can't allow you to use the base power supply."

Daniel and Jack looked incredulous, Sam gave an understanding nod, and Murray -- well, he showed no emotion at all.

Markus continued, "Our situation here is very delicate. We run very close to capacity on the generators, and have little to spare."

"So couldn't you borrow it?" Jack challenged. "Opening the gate's quick. Five minutes tops. Surely there's some part that can do without power for a short time?"

"And if there was a surge?" Markus asked and nodded his chin toward the stargate. "Or total system failure? All that stands between us in here, and the chaos and violence of the Outside, is our ability to generate electricity. We can't afford a mistake or an accident."

"So," Jack said, "what you're saying is that you won't let us go home." His eyes were dark and challenging, the expression quite hostile. It probably intimidated his junior officers and non-coms into stuttering obedience, and suggested that Jack was extremely dangerous under the flippancy.

But Markus had stopped being easily intimidated a long time ago. Without looking away, he folded his hands and answered calmly, "No. What I'm saying is that I want to send you back, both because I think it's the right thing to do and because your very presence is a hassle I don't need. But I'm not going to risk the lives and well-being of the nearly two thousand people who live here to do it."

"So then we do it without you," Jack suggested, making it sound like a threat.

Markus stiffened, not able to fully believe what he had just heard. Wasn't that just like the military to bulldoze across any obstacles between them and their objective, no matter how many people might suffer for it? It reminded him of that bastard Major Quantrell, who'd been so concerned with protecting his own ass that he had gotten Markus' parents killed. A little knot of anger formed in his chest, and his sympathy for these people's predicament evaporated. He gave Jack a hostile look right back and answered coldly, "I think you'll find that very difficult."

Daniel elbowed Jack and added quickly, "I think what Jack meant to say, is that of course, we don't want to put anyone in danger. But maybe there's another way."

Sam bit her lip and asked tentatively, "What if I can strengthen the system and help you increase the load capacity? You're right, there is a risk, but what if I can minimize it?"

He really didn't want to trap them here, if there was a safe way to get them home. He nodded. "If you could do that, then I'd reconsider," he allowed. "But I won't promise anything."

Jack looked ready to object again, but Daniel interjected with a forced smile, "That's great. We just want to go home. But we'll do what we can to help out while we're stuck here."

"I'm very glad to hear that." Markus glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. "In two hours, I'm going to have to explain you four to the mountain's advisory council." A meeting he was not looking forward to at all. If _anyone_ agreed with him that the strangers could be an asset, he would be surprised. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing the threatening headache would just come out or go away. "It would be helpful if you all had something to offer in exchange. Our resources are limited, and everyone who lives here contributes to the community."

Daniel nodded and said eagerly, "I can't help with mechanics or such, but I know a lot of history and anthropology, so maybe I can teach the, uh, kids, or whoever wants to learn. And if you have anything you need translated, I know several languages. Jack's a pretty good pilot. Do you have any of the old planes or helicopters around? I bet he could figure out how they work."

"Ha, ha. Us decrepit old men do have our uses," Jack grumbled.

Markus had no intention of letting Jack anywhere near the mountain's gunships until he knew that the visitors were trustworthy, but he was sure he could find a use for Jack's military knowledge.

Then Markus looked at Murray, who sat silent. Wasn't he going to offer to help?

Murray's deep gaze met his and he said, "I am a trainer in the hand-to-hand combat techniques of my people, and I will instruct any who wish to learn."

Markus thought it was a very interesting offer, both the reference to 'his people' and the intention to teach combat. An enemy would not likely emphasize his fighting expertise, nor offer to help his enemy improve. "Thank you, that'll help. I understand Sarah cut the tour a little short, so I'll have her come back." He looked to Sam. "Meanwhile, I can show you the generators, if you'd like to take a look."

She agreed enthusiastically. He saw the opportunity to take her down to see Meaghan first.

\---+---

As soon as Lee was able to escape his security duties, he high-tailed it to his room. His heart was pounding, and he was glad no one was around to see his face.

Was that really O'Neill? He'd met O'Neill and Kawalsky once, and this O'Neill sure looked like the one he'd met. Thankfully O'Neill hadn't given anything away. But Lee had never heard of a woman in the upper ranks, so where had "Major Carter" come from?

He needed to talk to Valhalla Sector. He needed to figure out what was going on, before the whole mess came crashing down on his head.

His hands were shaking as he removed the sat phone from its hiding place and carried it to the nearest comm system access port, plugged it in, and called a particular number at Valhalla Sector.

"Colonel Simmons, this is Lee Chen."

The smooth, cultured tones of the man in charge of Valhalla Intelligence came over the phone clearly. "Lee, good to hear from you. Do you have more information on Markus' meeting plans for me?"

Lee smiled and lied through his teeth. "No, sir. Nothing concrete yet. I have a request. Could you send Major O'Neill to Millhaven? I need his military expertise, and I don't trust the competency of the recon teams that Markus has here."

He waited, holding his breath, for Simmons to say something about O'Neill's current mission.

"What seems to be the problem?" Simmons asked.

"There's a man who has taken control of a base, where we believe there is at least one nuclear device. That's dangerous, for everyone."

Simmons paused, and Lee tensed. But when Simmons replied, his concerns were something other than what Lee feared. "O'Neill and Kawalsky are extremely adept at infiltration and destruction, just not at following orders. Are you sure this is the team you prefer?"

"Yes. These men will resist with force. I assume you'd rather send a more expendable team."

Simmons laughed. "I understand. Good thinking, Chen. They arrived at Millhaven yesterday. I'm sure they'll _love_ to get a new mission. They'll wait there for your instructions."

Lee disconnected, and hid his equipment with fumbling hands. Major O'Neill was at Millhaven and there was a Colonel O'Neill at Thunder Mountain. How was that possible? Was the colonel an impostor or the same person who had found a way to infiltrate the mountain? Lee had to go to Millhaven and straighten this out.

\---+---

Sam followed Markus through two sets of locked doors and up a dim stairwell, into a part of the base that seemed deserted. This didn't look like he was taking her anywhere near the generators, as he had claimed. "Where are we going?"

"You don't recognize it?" he asked. "Nothing in this section has changed since the Big Death. No one comes here."

"Well, then I'd say we're heading for the quarantine labs," she said as Markus opened another door with a keypad code.

"That's right. There's someone who wants to meet you. Come in." He held the door for her and followed her into a darkened room, where the only light was coming through the glass walls of the isolation room in front of them.

Sam saw inside the room, seeing a chair, table, bookcase, bed, and screened off bathroom area. There was a woman in the upholstered chair, she realized. The woman stood when she saw she had visitors and approached the glass.

She smiled at Markus then transferred her attention to Sam. "Hello," her voice sounded a little muffled, coming through a speaker and the glass wall.

Markus stepped up. "Sam, this is Meaghan Lee Rose. Meaghan, this is Sam Carter. I haven't told her anything about you yet. I've got to go, but I'll be back in a little while."

"Thanks for bringing her here," Meaghan replied. He just smiled a little and waved goodbye.

Sam was looking at Meaghan, and she knew that she wasn't seeing something that ought to be obvious. "Why are you in there?" she asked, knowing it was abrupt and rude, but unable to help herself.

Meaghan laughed softly, to herself. "Well, you play it well, I have to admit."

Sam shook her head, not understanding, and then her eyes widened. Meaghan's long dark hair was streaked with gray -- she was at least Sam's age, perhaps older. "You didn't die of the disease."

"Oh, it's much worse than that," Meaghan perched on the edge of the table, facing Sam and dangling her legs. "Not only am I apparently immune to the Big Death, I'm a carrier. The virus lives in me. If I came out and touched you, you would die. Markus would die. Every single one of these grown up kids in the mountain would die. And that's why I'm in here, and why I've been here since the Big Death."

"Holy Hannah," Sam whispered. "You've been in there for fifteen years?"

"Fifteen years, two months, and eighteen days." Meaghan smiled and shrugged, jumping back down to the floor. "But who's counting?"

She approached the glass, growing serious. "You should understand something. Very few people know I'm here. I've been a secret all these years, since the day Markus found me here and saved my life. But inside the mountain and outside, knowing that the Big Death is still alive would cause a panic. So you can't tell anyone about me. That's the way it has to be. They would never understand why Markus keeps me alive, when the smart thing to do would be to let me die."

Sam reflexively checked the containment status light above the glass, thinking about a real, live deadly disease that wiped out billions of people just on the other side of the barrier. "This is gonna sound cold, but…" Sam started.

"But why doesn't he?" Meaghan finished. "There are times when I really wish he would," she admitted quietly. "But he never will. He believes that, someday, we'll be able to find a cure to the Big Death from my blood."

"But the disease is gone, isn't it?" Sam asked. "From what we heard, it hit fifteen years ago and not again."

Meaghan shook her head. "Every child of the Big Death fears that it'll come back. It's like the bogeyman, except this bogeyman is real. It's still out there."

Sam settled on the chair next to the window and tried to think through what Meaghan had said. If she truly was a carrier, then she was right, a vaccine or cure could probably be designed from her blood. But under these circumstances, when the outside world was reduced to the dark ages and even Thunder Mountain was holding on to civilization by its fingertips, who would have the knowledge to do it? But she was not going to say that, when the woman inside that cell knew it, too. "I won't tell," she promised. "There's no reason to. You know what you're doing, and you know the consequences a whole lot better than I do."

Meaghan nodded. "Thank you. Markus told me that you come from an alternate reality where there was no Big Death."

Sam couldn't help a smile at the skeptical tone in Meaghan's voice. "Yeah, I know. It's hard to swallow." She went on to explain to Meaghan about the Stargate, the SGC, and the team's mission where, apparently, their reality got shifted. "So, instead of appearing in _our_ gateroom, we arrived here."

During the story, Meaghan had come to sit in the opposite chair, watching Sam closely. "Interesting," she said, and Sam couldn't tell if the other woman believed her. "So what was life like without the virus?"

Sam did her best to answer. She tried to think of what had changed since 1989 and what had stayed the same. There were modern conveniences like cell phones and mp3 players carried by every kid old enough to go to school, DVDs instead of VCR tapes and the end of the little black appointment books favored in past years. But Meaghan's expression didn't change; in fact she looked liked she still didn't buy it. As soon as Sam stopped describing the changes, Meaghan chimed in with her own line of questions. "So, tell me, was there a second world war?"

Sam nodded. "Yes. Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese on December 7, 1941."

"When was the Declaration of Independence signed?"

Although she had the sudden feeling she was back in grade school, Sam answered, "1776. We have a house and senate and a president," she added. She knew that Meaghan was testing her, so she was willing to play along.

Meaghan continued to interrogate her in a calm, but thorough manner, mostly questions of history, some of which Sam shame-faced had to admit she didn't know the equivalent in her own reality. After being asked about Roman history, she had to just shrug. "Sorry, I remember learning some of this in high school and even the academy, but it's been so long, I just don't recall anymore. Daniel would know."

"That's all right. I used to teach history, so I can be a little over-enthusiastic sometimes," Meaghan answered. She sat back and folded her hands. "I think I believe you," she announced. "The things that are different seem random and minor, and yet I can see where they could connect. As far as I can tell, your history generally parallels ours pretty closely, but Alexander Hamilton was a president in our reality, and not in yours, and most of our recent presidents have been different. Our hostilities with the Soviet Union seem "hotter" than yours, which might have led to our world's development of the Big Death virus as a weapon."

"It was man-made?" Sam demanded, in shock. "Really?"

"Well, I don't know for certain," Meaghan demurred. "Nobody does. But it makes sense. It was far too aggressive and lethal to be natural. Pneumonic plague in the Middle Ages killed perhaps half the population it infected, and that was under conditions of poor sanitation and ignorance of quarantine. But modern medicine didn't save anyone."

Sam nodded her understanding, but she wondered. Maybe the disease wasn't man-made at all, but was Goa'uld in origin. It certainly sounded like something Nirrti might do -- create a disease that would wipe out the adults and leave only children. Perhaps the children had been altered by the disease as well, as part of Nirrti's program to create a hok'taur.

But in a timeline where all the System Lords from Ra on down were still alive, the list of suspects was long. She also wondered where the Tok'ra were, if they were still around. If Martouf was still alive.

"Sam?" Meaghan prompted.

Smiling reflexively, Sam straightened. "I'm okay, just thinking. Trying to imagine what it was like."

"I find it ironic myself." At Sam's curious glance, Meaghan smiled and shrugged. "Here I am, a historian, and I'm stuck in here while the most devastating historical event on Earth since the Ice Age has been going on outside."

Sam chuckled. "I'm amazed you've kept your sense of humor, after all this time in here."

"Well, it was that or go crazy. And I couldn't go crazy, when Markus needs me," Meaghan said. "He keeps this place together. So I help keep him together." She smiled proudly. "Markus has big dreams, Sam, of more than just surviving. Of rebuilding. Of bringing back justice, instead of rule by the strong. Dreams of peace. And I truly believe the only thing that's going to stop him is if the Big Death comes back."

Sam couldn't help a smile at Meaghan's faith. "That's a tall order."

"True. And, God knows, there've been plenty of idealists in history who get crushed, but Markus is different, Sam. He _is_ an idealist, but he's not a blind one. He's also the strongest person I've ever known -- he took the Big Death, which turned so many of the children into bitter cynics, into an opportunity to create something better."

"'Better'?" Sam repeated curiously.

"No one's mentioned St. Louis to you yet?" Meaghan asked. At Sam's blank look, the other woman explained, "Markus is gathering a group of over a hundred regional leaders to try to unify them. The meeting is next week."

"Impressive." And Sam meant it, too. She could only imagine the difficulties of doing something like that. Just the logistical nightmare of informing so many distant people of the meeting without telephones was baffling.

Meaghan laughed. "I've called him my Thomas Jefferson once or twice. In fact, speaking of…" her head turned toward the door, moments before it opened, then called. "Here's Jefferson now."

Markus groaned as he came into reach of the light. "Meaghan, stop it. Ben Franklin, maybe, but not Jefferson."

"Oh, you're much better looking than Franklin," Meaghan teased. She got to her feet and brushed her hands together. "Sam and I have had a wonderful chat, thank you for bringing her."

"Of course." He looked at Sam. "I'm sorry, but I have to take you back before the council meeting. Meaghan explained to you that no one must know about her, right?"

"Yes," Sam nodded and stood up to join him. "Can I tell my team? I think they should know about some of the things I've learned talking with her."

Markus and Meaghan exchanged a glance, and only after Meaghan nodded, did he relent. "All right. But no one else, and not where anyone can hear you. Do you promise?"

She nodded and raised her right hand. "You have my word, I swear."

He searched her face, lips pressed together in clear anxiety. He didn't issue a threat, but she felt one lingering in the air anyway. This was important to him, and she was acutely aware of how much he was risking with her. She didn't look away, hoping to reassure him that she meant her promise.

After a moment, he nodded. "All right. Meaghan, I'll be back later," he promised her and escorted Sam from the room. He checked to be sure the door was locked behind them. "Thank you for keeping her company."

"My pleasure," Sam said. "She's an amazing woman."

"That she is," he agreed, with a fond look. "I was the first one to find her after the Big Death killed all the other adults in the mountain. She was dying, because they'd forgotten to turn on the water in the isolabs. She's been a great help to me ever since." He pulled the section door firmly closed and headed for the stairwell. "I'll take you to where the rest of your team is waiting. Then just don't wander too far, in case the other council members want to talk to you."

Sam agreed, and she followed him up to level twelve, near the conference room.

Markus dropped her off at a nearby room, which was, she noted, under guard. He gave her an absent smile and then walked away without looking back.

\---+---

Advisory council meetings were not usually the highlight of Markus' day. In addition to Markus himself, there were seven members of the council: five elected at-large from the official residents, and two -- Erin and Lee -- appointed by him. Up until six years ago they had all been appointed. Occasionally, when the council members were fractious or merely annoying, he wondered why he'd changed it.

This particular meeting was one of those times. Even with one chair vacant, that didn't seem to be helping. After he'd laid out the facts, he'd opened it up to comments, which went as he expected. The others were suspicious and frightened. Nobody was thinking beyond the fact that the four old people had managed to get into the Mountain through mysterious means.

Markus let it go as long as he could stand it, hoping that by letting them all vent, they'd mostly get it out of their systems. But when Kate started repeating herself for the third time, he tried to interrupt her gently by clearing his throat. Six faces turned toward him at the head of the table, and Erin's was not the only one who looked relieved.

"All right. You've all made your point," he acknowledged. "And you're right, they could be dangerous. They could be spies. They could even murder us all in our beds. I don't trust them. But, on the other hand, they gave up their weapons to Lee," he nodded his chin toward Lee, who was sitting in his usual chair at his right. "They told a ridiculous story that no one in their right mind would make up. They are incredibly conspicuous if they're spies. Maybe all that is just a cunning plot to make me believe them. But what if it's not a ploy?" he challenged. They all stared back. "What if what they say is true? Does no one see what an advantage this may give us?"

"What advantage?" Andrew demanded from the opposite end. "If the story's true then they don't know _anything_ about what's been going on in the last fifteen years."

"True. But they know things from before. Sam Carter knows the base systems; she's volunteered to help us increase our power supply. And both she and Jack O'Neill are military officers, Jack in particular is a colonel. He has the same training as the people who lead Valhalla Sector." He put his hands on the table and leaned forward eagerly. "He knows how they think. None of us here do. But he knows their tactics, their likely plans. How Valhalla is going to try to take us on."

He was pleased to see the understanding break across their faces. He straightened and folded his arms, addressing each of them gathered around the table:

"We're coming to the moment of truth," he said. "The moment when all that we've worked for either comes to pass or gets destroyed. I, for one, don't want to give up any advantage, no matter how slight, because that may be the margin of victory. Let's work with them."

After that, it was easy. Agreeing that the four would be kept under his supervision, and the off-limits areas would remain off-limits to them, the council voted to permit the four strangers to stay so long as they were useful. He moved on to hearing reports on the preparations for St. Louis. After the meeting broke up, Markus lingered behind with Erin and Lee.

She let out a loud groan and freed her hair from its ponytail, then looked accusingly at Markus. "You couldn't have said that at the beginning, instead of making us sit through an hour of hell?"

"They wouldn't have listened. Besides, nobody was really _wrong_," he pointed out. "Those four could be a threat to us."

"They _are_ a threat. They're dangerous," Lee declared.

"You think everyone's dangerous," Erin retorted.

"They are," Lee answered back, not at all offended. "That staff of Murray's -- it's a weapon. I'm sure of it."

"Probably," Markus agreed, and as a sop to Lee's sensibilities added, "Lee, recall Jeremiah and Kurdy. I think we could use the help."

Lee grimaced, not caring for the two much, but nodded. Jeremiah and Kurdy had found Thunder Mountain less than a year ago, but they had become one of Markus' best recon teams with their knowledge of the outside. Lee didn't like that both of them felt free to challenge Markus' authority, but Markus didn't mind �" he considered it a useful tool to have people around who would push him out of his habits. Their hearts were in the right place, and more importantly he believed they had good instincts.

Markus stood up and stretched out his back, grimacing at the stiffness in his side where the gunshot wound had healed. It was an unwanted souvenir of his trip to Danbury, but it beat being dead. "Come on, let's retrieve our guests and go get dinner."

It was not surprising that Erin begged off, but he was shocked that Lee wasn't going to stick to the strangers like a burr.

Lee's parting words were typical, though. "Markus, I hope you know what you're doing."

"Good night, Lee." Markus watched him go down the corridor before he knocked on the door to retrieve his guests for dinner.

\---+---

Jeremiah sat by the flames of the small campfire, watching his latest letter to his father burn. Smoke carrying emotions drifted upwards, the breeze blowing them to Valhalla Sector where his father lived, or if he was dead, to his father's soul.

Suddenly the radio came to life. "_Jeremiah? Kurdy? Are you there_?"

"Ah, shit," Kurdy swore as he brought an arm out of his sleeping bag and grabbed the radio. "The last voice I hear before going to sleep is Lee Chen's. It's gonna give me nightmares." He clicked it on. "Yeah, we're here. What do you want?"

"_Markus wants you two to come home. There have been, ah, developments that he needs your help with_."

"And those are?" Kurdy inquired with sarcasm.

"_Not on an open channel_," Lee answered.

Kurdy rolled his eyes as he looked at Jeremiah who nodded and mouthed "morning."

"We'll leave in the morning," Kurdy repeated to Lee, who acknowledged and was gone.

Kurdy set the radio down and turned curious eyes to his partner. "Wonder what's happened?"

"Maybe it's a major glitch in the plans for the big meeting in St. Louis," Jeremiah suggested as he slid into his bedroll. "And they need us to -- hell if I know," he spoke aloud as stared into fire's hypnotic embers.

Kurdy grunted agreement, tucked his head down in his bag again, and soon was sleeping. Jeremiah envied him that.

As the long night passed, Jeremiah kept going over all the tidbits of information he had learned about Valhalla Sector since joining up with Markus and Thunder Mountain. He had learned more in these past few months than during his last fifteen years of searching. There was no doubt that both Lee and Markus knew more about Valhalla Sector than they were willing to say. It was frustrating when he questioned them and only received half-answers.

What little he knew was ominous and disturbing. He and Kurdy had learned on their missions that experiments were currently being conducted in an effort to find a vaccine for the Big Death. That told him that the virus was still out there. The apocalypse wasn't over, yet. Some of these experiments were going bad, children were dying and people in silver suits were burning entire towns in an effort to cover-up these mistakes.

He and Kurdy had captured a Valhalla Sector soldier, Major Quantrell, who had been kidnapping children, maybe for the vaccine experiments. He had sneered that Valhalla Sector was going to defeat Thunder Mountain. Not long after, Valhalla had taken control of a missile silo less than one hundred miles from Thunder Mountain, and had nearly assassinated Markus.

Yet somehow worse than all that, Quantrell had recognized Jeremiah's name and stated that he knew his father. For the first time Jeremiah had begun to doubt his father's honor. The father he knew would never be involved in such immoral practices. But what if he hadn't really known his father at all? Markus' reluctance to discuss Valhalla with Jeremiah implied as much, but it would be easier to stop breathing than to cease looking for his father. The drive to find him had kept Jeremiah alive for the past fifteen years and he wouldn't stop until they were face to face.


	4. Chapter 4

**March 16, 2004**

Lee brought the glasses up to his eyes again. Yes, he was right, there was Jeremiah and Kurdy's jeep heading to the mountain's entrance. With the pandemonium of their return and the group from the ring, he'd have enough time to drive out to Millhaven and see Major O'Neill. He shook with the need to verify that the man inside Thunder Mountain was not from Valhalla Sector. He had put his life on the line to protect Markus Alexander. It couldn't blow up in his face now.

After the big door closed, sealing off the inside of the mountain, Lee hopped into his vehicle and left for the rendezvous. He was stopped once on the town outskirts, his pass inspected, and allowed to proceed. This was new and the heightened security made him wary.

He continued on, parking his car on the side of the street, and headed for the officer's club. It was a house, with a main room for food and drink and rooms upstairs for sleeping. If O'Neill and Kawalsky were in town, they'd be inside, flirting with the help.

"Hey, Chen. Come on in and have a beer!" O'Neill's familiar voice greeted him jovially when he pushed the main door open.

Lee saw the two majors sitting on a couch next to the front window, mugs of beer in their hands, and the remains of lunch beside them. As he got closer, he noticed that the magazine they were looking at showed rivers and men with fishing poles, not the naked women he had expected.

"Tell me, have you fished around here?" O'Neill started off. "This old Outdoor Life shows a stream here in your mountains that supposed to have the best brown trout fishing around."

"I don't fish," Lee remarked without enthusiasm.

"Too bad. We'll have to find some of the locals," Kawalsky suggested. "Bet they could point us in the right direction."

"They might run in fright, once they look at that graying mass on your head," O'Neill countered.

Kawalsky snorted. "Look who's talking. You've got more gray hair and years than I do."

Lee looked at O'Neill. This O'Neill did look a little different. Both O'Neill's had short hair, but this one looked like he cut it himself. It was jagged and a bit longer than the one in the Mountain. This one also looked younger, or perhaps just softer. But they were still enough alike to be identical twins. It was bizarre. That "alternate reality" explanation Markus had given the Council was looking a little more credible.

"So, why did you need our expert services?" O'Neill asked, breaking into Lee's thoughts.

Lee felt tongue-tied. He'd been so sure there was only one O'Neill, he hadn't thought beyond a no-show. "There's a base up north taken over by a charismatic madman named Michael. Markus believes there's a nuke there. I just thought Valhalla Sector ought to grab it first," Lee explained, trying to appear helpful. In truth, Jeremiah and Kurdy had already taken care of the madman and there'd been no nuke, just a lot of conventional bombs. But it would serve to get O'Neill out of the way, and give him time to think.

"No problem," O'Neill replied flippantly. "Taking down charismatic madmen is our specialty."

Kawalsky took out a map and Lee showed them which base. The two majors listened attentively, and then Kawalsky folded up the map. "We'll leave first light tomorrow."

Lee nodded and was about to leave, when O'Neill stopped him. "Speaking of charismatic madmen, what's Markus Alexander like?"

Lee's heart fluttered in agitation. Shit, what brought this on? "He's suspicious. Smart. Has to think through all his options before deciding what to do."

"That's not what I meant," O'Neill persisted. "Does he have a chance of defeating Valhalla Sector?"

Lee decided to take a small chance. O'Neill and Kawalsky were not in favor with the brass and never had been, so he thought he might test the waters a little. "That's not what he's about. He doesn't want war; he wants to bring people together. To rebuild, not destroy." Lee cleared his throat and waited to see how the soldiers would react. He hoped he hadn't said too much, but it was hard, when he believed so strongly in what Markus was trying to do. He hadn't intended to fall for it when he'd been assigned to infiltrate Thunder Mountain, but he had.

"So he's not out to conquer the country?" Kawalsky asked with a doubting face. "That's what General Waverly believes."

Lee couldn't help a laugh. "I can't imagine anything Markus would like less."

O'Neill grunted, frowning. Then he shrugged his shoulders as if dismissing the whole discussion, calling for another beer.

Lee sat back in his chair, pleased. The two men were mulling it over, and that could only be good for Thunder Mountain.

\---+---

Daniel had nothing to do. He wanted to contribute, but his skills were not as immediately useful as Sam's. She'd gone off early in the morning with several of the mountain's engineers to begin her work with the power and distribution systems. Daniel was no engineer, but he knew it was a massive undertaking. But if Markus was ever going to let them open the gate, the whole thing had to be upgraded. Jack seemed to think Markus was denying them the way home just to be mean, and Daniel had heard him mutter "Damn Tok'ra" at least twice last night. But Daniel felt reassured that Markus wanted to protect his people, even if it was at the cost of letting them go home quickly.

Gathering the three men of SG-1 into his office, Markus offered coffee. Daniel accepted gratefully, even though both Jack and Teal'c refused. To Daniel's eye, Jack seemed tense and suspicious about the meeting, as though Markus was planning to spring more bad news on them. Instead, Markus gave a little smile as he sat down. "Last night," he said, "I thought of some questions I had about the military, which I hoped you could answer."

Jack was taken by surprise and lifted his eyebrows curiously. He shrugged. "Sure. I guess even if you grew up in here, it's not like you had anyone to ask."

Markus beamed, looking proud that Jack understood his problem. "Exactly." He went on to lead Jack and Teal'c in a discussion of the military and its tactics. Daniel just watched and listened. Jack was lured into enthusiasm, and even Teal'c started getting into it. Markus put in a question once in a while to direct the response, but mostly he just listened intently, sipping his coffee.

Daniel decided to leave. The other three barely noticed.

He wandered out, hoping to talk to the people who lived under the mountain and utilize _his_ expertise in learning more about their culture.

He found Elizabeth in the gate room. She was sitting at one of the tables, papers in front of her and chewing on a pencil absently. He'd been introduced to her last night at dinner, and there was something about her that reminded him of Sha're. Not that Elizabeth looked much like Sha're, having darker latte skin and big hazel eyes. But they both had that same soft-spoken kindness that covered a will of steel. He could easily imagine Elizabeth in Sha're's place during the rebellion against Ra.

She looked up to see him enter. "Ah, Markus bored you silly, I take it?" She gestured vaguely upward toward the briefing room window.

He smiled and shrugged. "I'm not military, so I wasn't much help. But I was curious about how this place works. How you all live."

She popped up from her bench. "I can show you."

"You look like you're doing something --" he tried to demur, but she was having none of it. She made a disgusted face, folding the papers and putting them in her pocket.

"I'd love a break. Come on."

Their first stop was the school.

"There are about seventy kids over age three and they all go to class," she explained. "We teach them math, science, reading, and history. The older ones also apprentice in the various departments."

"What about foreign languages?" Daniel asked.

She shrugged. "There's not much practical use for other languages in here."

Daniel raised his brows and joked, "So there's a practical use for history?"

Instead of smiling she grew serious and quoted, "'Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.' When you intend to rebuild the world, you don't want to make the same mistakes your ancestors did."

"And that's what you're doing here?" he asked. "Rebuilding the world?"

She nodded. "That's what Thunder Mountain is for, Daniel. That's why we're here, why we were saved. As Markus likes to say, if we don't build a better world out of the ashes of the old, then all our parents died for nothing."

Daniel nodded slowly. "He's got some big plans, doesn't he?"

She smiled, bright in her enthusiasm. "Oh yes. And soon we'll --" But she stopped and glanced at him. "Sorry. I don't know if I should tell you."

"Are you talking about the St. Louis meeting?" he asked. "Markus told us yesterday after dinner."

"Good," she laughed a little in her relief. "We're not very good about secrets, and I'm doing a lot of the transportation coordination, so it's always on my mind. The meeting is a big step. Over a hundred local leaders have agreed to come."

"I'd love to attend," Daniel commented wistfully. He'd mentioned it last night, but Jack had said it wasn't a good idea. Daniel hadn't wanted to get into an argument with Markus there, so he'd let it go. "It sounds fascinating, watching history in the making."

"Well, Markus has warned us not to expect too much. These are all people who would shoot each other, and you, over five gallons of gas, so they're not exactly the Founding Fathers," she answered, and then changed the subject back to the school. "Did you have any other questions?"

Daniel shook his head, wondering how much of what she said was exaggeration. But she clearly didn't want to talk about it anymore.

He was about to tell her it was all right and ask about books, when a voice called from behind them. "Elizabeth!"

Daniel turned to see another man jogging up to them. He was dark-skinned and muscular, with long braids tied behind his head. His eyes lit up as they looked at Elizabeth. In fact his whole body seem to radiate joy as he came up to them.

"Kurdy, back so soon? I thought you --" she smiled at him, but looked confused.

"Introduce me to your friend," Kurdy asked with a thread of possessiveness in his voice.

She put a hand on his arm, and used her other to gesture toward Daniel. "This is Doctor Daniel Jackson. Daniel, this is Kurdy--"

"Doctor?" Kurdy interrupted again. "Doctor of what?"

"Archeology," Daniel responded, invoking as much friendliness as he could.

"Archeology?" he repeated in disbelief. "Right. The universities don't give degrees since the Big Death. The professors are dead."

"Yeah, well, I don't come from around here," Daniel replied evasively.

Kurdy crossed his arms, radiating suspicion. "Sure, you're from Valhalla Sector."

"Kurdy!" Elizabeth scolded, looking very uncomfortable

"What's Valhalla Sector? The only Valhalla I'm familiar with is from Norse mythology. It's what they call heaven." Daniel's mind started to race. Maybe Thor had made contact with this Earth after the Big Death, to save them from the Goa'uld. Maybe it was now a protected planet?

"Believe me, Valhalla Sector is no heaven."

Kurdy refused to say more and turned his attention to Elizabeth. Daniel wanted to ask more questions, but wasn't sure how to phrase them without making Kurdy even more suspicious of them. He'd have to ask Markus.

\---+---

The colonel left the bathroom and headed toward what they called the cafeteria, located in the gate room. The whole concept seemed wrong. He wanted to have his gun in hand while eating in case the gate started to activate. But oops, no gun. Markus had them confiscated. He had, however, given back everything but the weapons, explosives, radios and the GDOs. Jack decided he couldn't blame him for keeping those things, and was definitely glad to get his own clothes back. Luckily the vials of tretonin they all carried had also come back, so Teal's was safe for several months. Jack had been interested to realize that someone had figured out that the GDO was a transmitter, despite not really looking like one.

Teal'c waited patiently near the open hatch to the stairwell. "Are we ready to join the others for lunch?" the Jaffa asked.

"Hope Carter is done tinkering with the power. Having the lights go out while being interrogated wasn't my idea of a good time."

Actually, being interrogated -- which was what it had been, even though Markus had just wanted to 'ask a few questions' -- was never his idea of a good time, although at least he'd been comfortable. For two hours Markus had picked his and Teal'c's brains on US military tactics under various scenarios.

Jack had cooperated, because he had the distinct feeling that the questions were not hypothetical at all. As the questions continued, Jack had started to see the pattern and realized that Markus was looking for strategies for how a well-armed but small group of people might resist or even take the fight to a better-armed and larger group.

When Erin had come in to fetch Markus for a meeting, Jack had never been so glad to see someone in his life. He felt wrung out, drained of every drop of information, and yet Markus had smiled at him before leaving. "I look forward to continuing our conversation, Jack," he had said.

Jack shuddered at the memory. How someone who spoke so softly could be so damned _relentless_ amazed him. But even more, how that same person could ferret out things that he could have sworn he had never even _learned_, not to mention forgotten, boggled his mind. Ba'al-boy had nothing on Markus' interrogative ability.

"I'm suddenly very glad that Markus is a Tok'ra in our reality," Jack commented to Teal'c. "Can you imagine him as a Goa'uld?"

"The prospect is indeed quite … disturbing, O'Neill," Teal'c said, leading the way down the stairs.

"Oh yeah. 'Disturbing.'" Sometimes Teal'c's choice of words could be really too funny. He chuckled as they emerged into the bottom floor. "Wonder what they'll serve today? Last night's stuffed cabbage wasn't too bad. Beat anything our commissary serves."

They entered the room and gathered their food. When he turned to look for a place to sit, Jack noticed Erin talking to a guy he hadn't seen before. Her lunch tray was on the table, but she was standing with her arms folded, as the guy ranted at her. Jack's protective instincts rose within him. He strode purposely over to the duo putting on his most intimidating face.

"…can't be trusted," the young man was saying. He was wearing a curious mix of an olive BDU jacket, brown sweater, and leather pants. Short brown hair and at least two days worth of stubble framed a narrow face that looked older than his years.

Erin saw them coming and cleared her throat, stopping the guy from saying more. "Hello, Colonel O'Neill. Mr. Murray."

"Murray," Teal'c corrected, not hiding his distaste for the name.

"Hey, and I'm just Jack," O'Neill said. "You're not the Major Gant we know."

"Major Gant? You buy all that shit?" the young man accused, then focused his attention on Jack. "You're from Valhalla Sector, aren't you?"

"And you would be?" Jack asked nicely, sort-of. The kid had an attitude problem and a chip on his shoulder, Jack could tell that much already.

"Jeremiah," he answered shortly.

"What's Valhalla Sector?" Jack asked. No one had mentioned the place to him yet, but he wondered why Jeremiah thought he could be from there.

Jeremiah shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and shifted his weight impatiently. "Isn't that where you're from?"

"Ah, no. We're from here, Cheyenne Mountain, as a matter of fact," Jack told him truthfully. "I've never heard of Valhalla Sector. Why?"

Jeremiah was going to say something sharp, until Erin warned him, "Jeremiah…"

He glanced at her, and his belligerence faded. Letting out a breath, he glanced away. "I think my father is there."

"Your father? What's his name?" Jack asked, curious. Hadn't they said that the older generation was dead?

"Devon Samuels. Doctor Devon Samuels. Medical researcher."

"Nope. Never heard of the guy. I do know a Samuels, but that guy's a prick, so I hope you're not related to him." It had been a good day when Paul Davis had replaced Colonel Samuels as the Pentagon liaison. But Samuels' first name was Albert, not Devon.

Whether he was someone Jack knew or not, Jack wondered how Jeremiah's dad could be from anywhere, considering what he'd been told about the virus. "Why are you asking about this place in a hushed tone? I can almost hear the quotes around it, 'Valhalla Sector'." He said the name in a melodramatic whisper.

Neither Jeremiah nor Erin cracked a smile. Jeremiah glared at him, hostile again. "It wants to take us over; destroy everything that Markus is trying to build and impose military rule. We won't let that happen!" Jeremiah added passionately. "Don't trust a damn word they say, Erin," he warned and stalked off.

"That went well," Jack replied sardonically, watching Jeremiah go. The colonel was actually impressed. Jeremiah seemed loyal and protective, demonstrating that there was true heart under the aggression.

He saw that Carter and Daniel had collected their lunch trays, and he waved a hand for them to come join him.

"Jeremiah isn't known for his tact," Erin tried to explain as she sat by her lunch. "He pretty much says what's on his mind or--"

"That's okay. I'm the same." Jack sat down, motioning for Teal'c to sit also.

Erin looked sorry they had sat down with her. Jack could tell she was really uncomfortable.

"So, tell me," he began, trying to put her at ease. "What _is_ this Valhalla place?"

"Yeah, some guy, Kurdy I think his name was, mentioned it earlier too," Daniel added. "What is it?"

Erin looked even more uncomfortable. She glanced up at the darkened windows of the former briefing room, as if hoping Markus would appear and save her from answering. When no miracle came, she licked her lips. "Well, Jeremiah's right. It's a military base, back east someplace. Apparently some of the Old World survived the Big Death in there. And they've been slowly expanding their reach, taking control of other bases. We seem to be next on their list."

Jack nodded. That was the enemy Markus had been talking about, without ever mentioning by name. "And they're bad guys?"

She stiffened. "Unless your idea of a 'good guy' is killing entire villages and then burning them down."

"What?" Carter demanded in shock. "Why on Earth would they do that?"

Erin gave her a little smile that was not much more than a baring of her teeth. "To hide evidence that they're trying to unlock the Big Death."

"That's terrible!" Carter exclaimed.

"Yeah, well, it's your military." Erin stood up and picked up her tray. "Excuse me. I have a meeting."

The four members of SG-1 watched her leave and then turned back to their lunches.

"Notice how it's now suddenly "our" military," Jack rolled his eyes. But he was troubled by the news. Bad enough that there were ex-military out there and that they were hostile to Thunder Mountain, but to find out that they were intent on bringing back the disease that nearly wiped out human civilization was infinitely worse.

"It can't be true," Daniel said softly.

But as bad as it was, Jack had no problem believing it. "Think so?" he retorted. "Just imagine the scumbags of NID in charge of a place like this. What _wouldn't_ they do?"

"They would attempt to conquer the planet, by any means within their grasp," Teal'c stated.

"Exactly," O'Neill pointed his spoon at Teal'c before taking a cautious sip of the vegetable soup. It was quite good. He ought to ask whether the Thunder Mountain chefs would like to work for the SGC. "I'd like to think that "my military," as she so delightfully put it, is all about truth, justice, and the American way, but it just ain't so."

"Especially when there are no checks on power anymore," Carter pointed out. "There's no government left, no civilian authority, not even any reporters. Who's going to stop them?"

Struck by the question, Jack looked around at the other people eating. No one was sitting nearby, keeping their distance from the strange old people. That was what Jack noticed the most: they were all so young. And, unless he was very much mistaken, they were going to be at war soon. "These people, Carter," he murmured. "That's who's gonna stop them. And we're gonna help."

"We _are_ helping, Jack," Daniel said.

"No, Daniel, I mean we are gonna help take down those bastards who've forgotten what the uniform should stand for. These kids don't know battle. We do." He shared a glance with Teal'c, and his brother-in-arms nodded soberly, in complete shared understanding. Then he turned to look at his 2IC.

"Speaking of helping, Carter, how did you do with the power doohickies? Is Markus ever gonna let us open the gate?"

She seemed distracted, and took a moment to answer. "The system is in better shape than I expected, but Markus was right to be cautious. Parts of it are practically cobbled together with hair pins and chewing gum." She paused, and when she didn't continue immediately, Jack raised his eyebrows and motioned with his hand to keep her going. She added, "The power supply is the bigger problem. The generators operate on fuel oil. Nobody would tell me how much they have left, but there can't be much. One naquadah reactor would solve their energy problems, plus power the gate."

"Oo-kay," he said slowly, trying to think it through. She had a good idea. If they could open the gate without using the mountain's resources at all, Markus would have no argument for not allowing it. Plus they'd be giving a very valuable parting gift, and Jack was sure Markus would appreciate it. But he saw a gaping flaw in her plan. "Can you build one with their stuff?" Jack asked, somewhat doubtful that late-eighties technology was adequate to the challenge.

She nodded. "I think so. It'd be easier with modern components, of course, but they've got supplies. The problem is, I need a source."

"Major Carter, is the naquadah in my staff not sufficient?" Teal'c asked.

She shook her head. "I'd need at least ten more. Ideally I'd use five grams of high-state refined naquadah, instead of what's in the staff. It's like gasoline and jet fuel -- same stuff, but different grade," she explained, and Jack was glad he wasn't the only one who needed the Naquadah-for-Dummies version, going by Daniel's sudden expression of enlightenment.

But this all brought up another flaw, which she had apparently already been considering, given her glum face. She knew as well as Jack did that naquadah was not found on Earth. But he asked anyway, "Where are we going to get it if we can't leave the planet?"

She shrugged, not having the answer. But Daniel did. Which really didn't surprise Jack at all.

Daniel offered slowly. "There are probably at least three Goa'uld still on Earth in this reality. Hathor is still hopefully buried in Latin America, and Osiris is in Egypt. But Seth is alive somewhere, probably head of some cult. Given the similarities to our own reality, it's quite possible he's even here in the U.S. What do you want to bet he's got some naquadah?"

Jack finished his soup and wiped his mouth with the square of worn cloth he'd been given for a napkin. There were a lot of "ifs" and "maybes" with this plan, but at least it was a plan. He would like to be home eventually, and without naquadah, that didn't sound like it was going to happen any time soon. "Then we're going to have to ask about Seth, and hope we can find him."

"It might not be as hard as we think," Daniel said. "With what I've heard about the country outside, there are plenty of cults out there. The problem might be picking the right one."

Jack sighed. "I was hoping to avoid the whole nasty snake issue. Markus has enough on his plate, without adding the threat of planetary invasion by evil aliens."

"Assuming this Valhalla place isn't being run by one," Daniel joked, but it fell flat, since they all realized that it could very well be true.

"We've got to tell him, I guess," Jack glanced at the half of a sandwich Carter had left. "You gonna eat that?"

She pushed her plate over to him. "Sir, there's something else. I noticed it today while I was working. You know how in our SGC we have surveillance equipment monitoring the corridors?"

"Yeah?" Jack prompted, warily. Where was she going with this?

"Well, I would think with the power shortage, they would have cut the cameras off long ago. But I saw one move today."

"They don't trust us," Daniel answered.

"That's true, and I don't blame them," Carter admitted. "But that isn't the point. If the cameras had been taken off line, say ten years ago, they shouldn't be working now but they are. Who's controlling them? I can't believe Markus has anything to do with it."

Jack agreed with that. Not just because Markus seemed like a stand-up guy, but because there wouldn't be much need. Thunder Mountain was an enclosed society, and there couldn't be that many secrets. But those cameras could be tapped into by an outside agency, or recordings made within and then shipped outside. "He's got a spy in his midst," Jack concluded. "A spy from Valhalla, I'm betting. This gets better and better. He's gonna _love_ us."

"We need to inform Markus of what we've discovered. I would personally hate to lose whatever trust we've managed to gain," Daniel argued.

"I agree," Teal'c added. "I too believe Markus is innocent of spying on his people."


	5. Chapter 5

Markus sat in the council room listening to the last of the technicians' reports. Erin had joined the meeting late, muttering "Jeremiah" to him as explanation, and Lee had yet to show up.

"Sam has increased power efficiency by over twenty-five percent. She taught me so much." The awe was apparent in David's voice.

"Thank you, David," Markus acknowledged tiredly. He was happy that their guests had helped, but he worried all the same. Even if they meant Thunder Mountain no harm, there were going to be repercussions of their arrival. How would Valhalla Sector react to the news of a powerful new technology awakening inside Thunder Mountain? He'd tried to keep it quiet, but word would leak eventually. Trouble was inevitable.

After a few more questions from Tess and Raymond, David was allowed to leave the room.

"The meeting in St. Louis begins in five days," Erin reminded them all. "We need to begin sending our teams out to transport the different leaders, if we're going forward." She looked to Markus and waited.

Markus steepled his fingers. He knew what she was really asking: had the new arrivals changed their plans?

He inhaled a deep breath. "Our visitors don't change anything. They have no radios or sat phones, so they can't contact Valhalla Sector even if they wanted to. The others are depending on us, and we can't afford to show weakness by changing the plans. We're going."

The council released a collective breath, and a new energy filled the room. They realized that in the greater scheme of things, the visitors were not that important. St. Louis was the focus now, and that was where he wanted it.

The meeting broke up. Lee had still not joined them. Where was he?

"I'm glad you were able to persuade Andrew to stay on the council," Erin commented as they walked down the hall.

"I know you two have had problems in the past," Markus countered, with some understatement. Erin had never liked Andrew much, finding him too ambitious and not loyal to Markus personally, which were both black marks in her book. Andrew and his brother Thomas had attempted to maneuver Markus out of power not long ago, but Thomas had lied and cheated to make it happen, and Andrew had tried to resign from the council to make amends. Markus had persuaded him to reconsider. "He's a good man and one whose views should be heard."

Erin laughed. "Even though they seldom agree with yours?"

"Especially, because they don't." As much as Markus valued Erin and Raymond's unquestioning loyalty and willingness to do pretty much whatever he wanted, he knew that path led to tyranny, or at least foolishness. He really hated looking foolish.

They turned the corner and Markus stumbled sideways to avoid Jack who was approaching the same intersection. Down the hall Murray stood beside the door of Markus' office, with an aura of watchful patience.

Jack stopped, stepped back in front of Markus, and commanded, "We need to talk."

Markus had to take a deep breath to make sure his voice would escape the tightening of his throat and jaw. Surely Jack didn't mean his tone to be so peremptory. "What about?"

Jack looked pointedly at Erin. "In private."

Markus turned to Erin, who had already begun backing away. "No problem. Markus, I'm going to find Elizabeth and tell her we're a go."

"Please," Markus opened the door and held it for his visitors. "So, what's the matter?"

Murray took up a stance near the bookshelves. Jack paced to the computer and back to the table, before confronting Markus. "The cameras in the base. Carter saw one move to watch her this morning."

Markus stiffened at the insinuation that he was spying on Jack and his team members. "She must be mistaken," he said, folding his arms. "The cameras have been off-line since the Big Death."

"Carter's not wrong about tech stuff," Jack answered in a milder tone. "Look, I'm sorry to have to tell you this. But if you don't know about it, I think the only explanation is you've got a spy in here. Do you have the keys to the security control room?"

"Security control room?" Markus repeated blankly, not connecting why the room was important to anything. He was still trying to swallow the idea that the cameras were functional. A pit was forming in his gut. He had thought he'd seen the cameras move, too. When he had asked Lee, Lee had told him point-blank that the cameras did not work. Lee had lied.

"It's up on level sixteen. There's monitors and computers there, some operation controls, north corridor. I think they used to call it the secondary operations room."

Markus forced himself to focus. "Yes, I can access it."

Markus left his office and headed to the room in question followed by the two visitors.

"Have you been in the room lately?" Jack asked as they approached.

"Not in years. I thought none of it worked."

Markus stopped in front of the door. He turned the handle, but it didn't budge. He touched the four numbers for access on the keypad. The tiny light remained red, not turning green as it was supposed to. He tried again, in case he'd mis-typed, but to no effect. Someone had reprogrammed it to a new code. When had that happened?

"Don't worry," Jack said. "I have a key."

Markus swallowed a lump as the colonel pulled out a key from his pocket, and opened the door. Inside, the monitors were all active, showing a variety of sections in the base. On one was the cafeteria. A second one displayed the main armory. Another one showed Meaghan, as she sat at the table reading a book. His hands began to shake.

"I'm sorry," Jack offered, awkwardly patting Markus on the shoulder.

Markus waited for a comment about Meaghan, but none was forthcoming. Sam must have already told him. "You have a master key," he said, inanely focused on the trivial. "I never found one. I figured Quantrell must have taken it with him when he fled after the Big Death…"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I have one. Opens most things. Here." He put it in Markus' hand. "Take it. Looks like you need it."

"I -- Thank you." Markus folded his fingers around it, but his gaze was drawn relentlessly back toward Meaghan's image on the left-hand monitor. "I don't know what to say…"

"You don't have to say anything to me. This is your base. Your people. I just wanted you to be aware of the situation."

"One among you is a traitor," Murray declared. "He must be found and stopped."

Markus stepped back, still trying not to believe the evidence in front of his eyes. Lee had betrayed him. Had betrayed the whole mountain.

Suddenly the doorknob rattled and the door burst open. Markus took another step back, so the door narrowly missed his shoulder. From behind the door he saw Lee storm in.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Lee accused Jack. "How did you get in here? Going around stealing keys?"

Jack gave a sly smile. "Nope. Carry my own. In a kingdom long ago I was second in command of this base. I have a master --"

"Hand it over, immediately," Lee ordered.

"No!" Markus slammed the door shut behind Lee and moved in front of it, arms folded.

Lee whirled around, turning stricken eyes onto Markus.

"Colonel O'Neill, Mr. Murray. Thank you for notifying me of the problem." Markus wanted to be alone with Lee. He wanted him to give a logical explanation, one that he would believe. "I'll handle it from here."

"I'm sorry, Markus, but no can do." Jack paused, keeping his eyes on Lee. "A cornered rat is likely to bite."

"Never! I would never hurt Markus!" Lee protested. "I'm loyal to Thunder Mountain and to Markus."

Jack showed teeth. "Really? Enough to permit a search through your belongings?"

Lee stiffened, though he tried not to react, and he glanced at Markus as though to check whether he'd noticed.

How could this be? How could Simon have been so horribly wrong? Five years of trust… of believing Lee. Of believing that Lee believed in him.

"No, Markus, it's not what you think," Lee protested desperately. "I can explain --"

He stepped toward Markus, impulsively, but Murray's hand gripped his shoulder to keep him still. "That would be unwise, Lee Chen."

"You'll get your chance to explain. But first, let's see what we can find. I find evidence so much more persuasive, don't you?" Jack asked with poisonous civility.

Markus sighed. "Okay, let's go."

The four men left the room. Markus locked the door again and led the way directly toward Lee's room, while Murray and Jack walked on either side of the smaller man.

Down a floor, where Lee and many others had quarters, Markus rounded the corner to the main corridor, and paused. Jeremiah was coming their way. It was too late to stop -- Jeremiah had already seen them.

Markus groaned inwardly. This was all he needed. Jeremiah had never trusted Lee from the very beginning.

"What's going on?" Jeremiah asked.

"I think we caught ourselves a spy," Jack announced, and Markus flinched. Lee… a spy -- it still didn't seem possible.

"Lee? Really?" Jeremiah didn't look surprised.

Jack put an unfriendly hand on Lee's shoulder, although with Murray there, Markus doubted Lee was going to get far. Jack said, "Markus is about to search his room. This is really none of our business, but I didn't want to leave Markus alone with him. Why don't you accompany them?"

Jeremiah flashed a grateful smile on Jack. "I would _love_ to."

"Thanks, Jack." Markus was not happy. "I'm glad you helped diffuse the situation."

"Didn't want to diffuse it, only ensure your safety."

The worst part was that Markus couldn't argue that he was safe. He felt profoundly _unsafe_ with Lee's loyalty in question. "If you would, find Erin and send her here," Markus suggested. "Try the exercise room on twenty-two."

"Sure," Jack nodded. "No problem. Let me know how it turns out. T, come on, let's leave these folks to their thing."

The two visitors went back down the corridor to the door for the stairwell and disappeared from view. Markus wished he could go to his office and have someone report to him how it all turned out. Unfortunately, he couldn't.

"Well, well," Jeremiah grabbed Lee's shoulder. "A spy. Really? Let me guess, Valhalla Sector?" Abruptly he shoved Lee into the wall, and put a forearm across his neck. "So tell me, you son of a bitch, what do you know about my dad?"

"Markus, get him off me!" Lee struggled, ineffectually pulling against Jeremiah's arm. "Markus!"

Markus said nothing, watching. Lee's frantic eyes were fixed on him, but Markus was unmoved. Shock had faded, and anger had taken its place. He was slow to anger as a general rule -- too much of a thinker and too willing to see the other side's point, he'd always thought. But he remembered the monitor displaying the image of Meaghan, and didn't stop Jeremiah from doing what he wanted to do himself.

Jeremiah glanced back over his shoulder at Markus, and must have liked what he saw, since a slight smile formed on his face. "You are so screwed, man. Better tell everything you know, or he's gonna throw you to me, and you really, really don't want that," Jeremiah advised coldly and pulled Lee back to the middle of the corridor. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

Lee went along, unresisting. He appeared to have given up, but Markus doubted it was sincere.

Inside Lee's room, one of the converted offices, Markus closed the door behind them and stood in front of it. He pointed to the only chair. "Lee, you sit. Quietly. Jeremiah, search everything."

Jeremiah pulled open the drawers of the bureau and the desk, handing anything interesting he found to Markus. There was a packet of extensive notes about everything to do with the mountain including Markus himself, which was ominous but not particularly incriminating. Lee was obsessive about details, which was one of the reasons he was in charge of security. It was explainable that he would keep such notes secretly, as long as he didn't pass them on.

But then Jeremiah handed him a small black object he'd found in the back of a drawer. A satellite phone. No one had a phone unless there was someone to call. Jeremiah turned to continue the search, but Markus said quietly, "No. This is enough."

Someone knocked twice on the door, and he heard Erin's voice, "Markus? Are you in there?"

He opened the door and let her in. "Jeremiah just found this in Lee's sock drawer." He handed her the sat phone.

With a grimace, she took it by the edges, glanced at it, and deposited it on the surface of the desk. Turning with folded arms, she glared at Lee. "You bastard. All this time you've been spying for _them_."

"No!" Lee burst out, jumping up from his chair. Jeremiah shoved him back down.

"I didn't hear anybody say you can stand up. Sit your ass in the chair and talk. Or not, whatever you want," Jeremiah said. "But when they're done with you, you and I are gonna have a chat and, trust me, what Theo did to Simon is gonna look like a Sunday school picnic."

Curiously, Jeremiah threatening Lee made Markus far less inclined to do it himself. He moved away from the door, catching both Lee and Jeremiah's attention. "Lee, talk to me. Who do you work for?"

Lee looked both scared and vulnerable, hesitating to answer. But then he took a deep breath and when he let it out again, he answered with the air of someone who had made a decision, "Valhalla Sector. I was sent here originally by Colonel Frank Simmons, who's their head of intel. But I work for Devon, Jeremiah's father."

"You lying piece of shit! My dad is _not_ working with them!" Jeremiah raised his fist, about to strike.

Erin intervened, "Jeremiah! Don't." She caught his arm and forced him back a step. "You're going to get the answers you were looking for -- but you've got to be prepared to find out they're not the answers you want to hear!"

He shook her off, but subsided into sullen silence.

"He's right, actually," Lee offered. "Devon isn't _with_ the leaders of Valhalla. He's against them. For the last fifteen years they've been trying to force him to give them the key to the Big Death, and he's resisted. They have nothing to hold over him. Nothing except _you_, you idiot," he spat at Jeremiah suddenly. "You go in there like you want to, and suddenly they've got the only card they need to make him crack."

Jeremiah stared at him, looking shocked. "What?"

Markus intervened, realizing this was important to Jeremiah, but he'd gotten his answer and it was now more vital to find out other things. "So you work for both this Simmons and Devon?"

"I was sent here by Simmons to gather intel, but I only tell Devon the truth," Lee answered. He looked up at Markus with an earnest expression on his face. "I never told Simmons the really important things, Markus, I swear. I've kept things from him. I've lied. I've tried to protect you as much as I could. When I came here, I didn't intend to believe in it, but I do. They're not marching on this place because I told them that you weren't organizing, that you were content to stay buried in here."

"Yeah, right," Jeremiah snorted. "You're such a hero, Lee."

"Well, damn it, I did what I could!" Lee exclaimed. "And I'm telling you now, because I'm sick of being in the middle and I want to be on your side."

"No, you're telling us this now because you got caught," Erin said disgustedly.

Markus could feel the frustration building inside. All of this was irrelevant. "I want to know two things," his voice came out flat and cold. "Did you tell them about Meaghan? And did you tell them about St. Louis?"

Lee didn't answer quickly enough. In a sudden burst of fury, Markus swept the sat phone and the papers off the desk to the floor and shouted, "Damn it, Lee! Did you tell them?!"

They were all staring at him in shock.

Into the following silence, Lee answered, his voice shaking, "No, Markus. I never did. Nothing. I swear."

Markus stepped away, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart and trying to ignore the sharp pain and bitter taste of betrayal. "All right. Fine. I pray you're telling the truth. But I can't deal with you right now. For five years I've _trusted_ you, Lee. I thought you believed in what we're doing --"

"I do!" Lee interrupted, pleading. "Markus, I do. I believe in Thunder Mountain. I believe in you."

"Not enough. Or you would've told me." Markus turned, unable to bear the sight of him anymore. "You two take him to holding. I don't know if I trust any of his people anymore. We're going to have to find out how deep this goes. Tomorrow."

Suddenly the headache that had been looming in the back of his brain for two days burst into a thudding behind his eyes. He'd grab a coffee from the cafeteria, get an aspirin from the bottle in his desk, and try to think all this through.

"Who's Meaghan?" Jeremiah asked, puzzled.

"Not now," Erin advised softly.

Markus ignored the question. "I'll deal with Lee in the morning." He scooped the sat-phone from the floor and put it in his pocket. "I'll be in my office if you need anything."

"Make sure you get some lunch," Erin urged him.

He chuckled once sourly as he left. He had a meeting in four days that might determine the entire future of the country, four guests from an alternate reality, an ancient alien space travel device in his cafeteria, and a powerful pitiless enemy who wanted to destroy all that he was trying to build. Not to mention Lee was a traitor, and there might be any number of other traitors in the mountain. And Erin wanted him to eat?

Right.

\---+---

"Congratulations, Lee," Erin announced sarcastically. "I can't remember the last time I saw Markus lose his temper."

Lee jerked his gaze away from the door, which had closed behind Markus. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this," he whispered. This couldn't be happening. He flinched, remembering the pain on Markus' face. The pain he had put there.

"What the hell did you think was gonna happen?" Jeremiah demanded. "Did you think you'd tell Markus you were a spy for all these years and he was gonna be okay with that?"

Lee couldn't answer, because he realized Jeremiah was right. He'd known that he was going to have to pick a side. And he'd known for quite a while that it would be Thunder Mountain. But somehow he'd never considered that the choice might not be his own, if his double life was found out.

Staring at the wreck of his room, he knew that he'd made a terrible mess of everything. He hadn't been careful enough, smart enough -- hadn't kept the distance he should have. If he'd just done his _job_ and not gotten carried away by Markus' idealism, this wouldn't be happening.

But treacherously another part of him reminded him that he had already made his choice. That in fact it was that very idealism -- the opposite of Valhalla Sector's casual disregard for anything but their own power -- that had made him choose in the first place.

Lee looked up at Erin. He swallowed at the hard expression on her face, and the hostility radiating from her. "Erin --"

"I don't want to hear anything from you right now."

"No, Erin, listen! Please," he asked more softly. "It's important. I don't _know_ of anyone else that Valhalla Sector has here. I swear I don't. But I doubt I'm the only one. Simmons is a pathological planner -- he has contingency plans for just about everything. I'm sure there's one for me getting exposed."

She looked at him with narrowed suspicious eyes, her arms folded. "Forget it. I'm not playing your games, Lee."

"It's not a game!" he burst out. He swallowed and bit his lip. "Look, I screwed up," he said, glancing from her to Jeremiah. "I know that. I should've said something long ago, when I knew my loyalties had changed. But they have changed," he insisted, over Jeremiah's skeptical snort, "They have. I'm going to tell Markus everything I know. But the thing is, I don't know that there's someone else -- but I think it's likely."

She relaxed her hostile stance, putting her hands on hips and her expression turning more thoughtful. "What might this hypothetical extra spy do?"

"I don't know," he shrugged a little. "But I'm afraid it might be another attempt on Markus."

"What makes you say that?" Jeremiah demanded. He hadn't loosened his hostility as much as Erin, but his body language suggested a willingness to listen as well.

Which was good, because he was telling the truth. "Come on, Jeremiah," Lee said, unable not to be impatient with him, "what's the one simple thing they can do to hurt us the most? And if I'm not giving them information any more because I've been caught, then what do they have to lose?"

"It's not like they haven't tried already," Erin reminded them reluctantly. "Point taken, Lee. I'll do something about it." Then she squared her shoulders and got back to business. "Come on, let's go. Helpful or not, you're still going to holding."

Lee nodded and cooperated fully, even though instinctively he wanted to resist. He neither liked being shoved around nor put into a cell, but he kept a tight rein on himself. The only way they would ever believe him was to be as calm and willing to go along as possible.

But it was a hard thing when the door slammed shut and he heard the key turn in the lock. He sat on the plain mattress of the cot and rested his head in his hands, hoping that this would all be over soon and that Markus would forgive him.

\---+---

Out in the corridor, past the holding area, Jeremiah finally let loose with the incredulous grunt he'd been holding in. "Can you believe that load of crap?"

"Which part?" Erin asked, with a touch of wry humor.

"Well, all of it, I guess. Mostly that other spy thing." Jeremiah rolled his eyes again, just thinking of it.

"Actually that part I believe," Erin admitted. "It just makes too much sense. And …" she hesitated and then added more quietly, "you know, when you guys brought Quantrell back here? Lee had an alibi for Quantrell's death. But that death was no accident, Jeremiah. Quantrell was killed by someone in the mountain."

"Quantrell was murdered?" Jeremiah asked in astonishment, freezing in place. "I thought he killed himself."

"That was what Markus wanted everyone to think," Erin said, turning to face him, her arms folded again. "But he knew that someone pushed the button to remove all the air. And it couldn't have been Lee, because he was with Andrew and Raymond when it happened."

"Fuck," Jeremiah said, drawing it out in horror. "There _is_ someone else. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"We didn't tell anyone. Even Lee. But honestly we wouldn't have told you anyway." She reached out a hand to briefly brush his cheek, to take the sting from her words. "You and Kurdy have done good work, you know. But for all that, you have only been with us a year. And you never kept it a secret that you were more interested in Valhalla Sector than being one of us. We may have been foolish about Lee, but we're not entirely stupid to give up all our secrets to someone who's planning on walking in the enemy's front door."

She shrugged at him, with a flicker of humor, then continued down the corridor. "I'll see you later, Jeremiah. Remember, not a _word_ about this to anyone," she shouted back over her shoulder.

He stared after her, stunned by the knowledge that Markus had known there was a traitor in Thunder Mountain for weeks now. Yet, not at all surprised that he'd kept the secret. For someone who seemed so ridiculously honest, Markus kept a lot of secrets.

\---+---

Jack and Teal'c wandered down to the basketball court. The four guys playing half-court courteously invited them to join, but Jack declined, citing bad knees and old age. Not one of the kids protested in any way, causing Jack to smile a little. Back home even the youngest lieutenant would have felt duty-bound to protest that the colonel was still in good shape and 'not that old'. Here, he _was_ old.

Teal'c said he merely wanted to watch. The kids shrugged and went back to playing. The two old men straddled two chairs to watch and, more importantly, talk.

"So," Jack said to his Jaffa buddy in a low voice, "what do you think?"

Teal'c did not pretend ignorance of his meaning. "I saw two supply rooms stacked with crates of weaponry. This place has greater offensive capability than Markus Alexander led us to believe."

"Yeah, I noticed." Jack tapped his finger on the hard plastic back of the chair. The chair was scratched and dented, but was otherwise in good condition. Hideously uncomfortable government-issue chairs lasted forever. "But if Valhalla has really taken control of all the old bases from here to D.C., that's a lot of firepower, T. Whatever this place has, it can't have _that_ much. So while he was fairly vague in the specifics, in the main he was right -- they're outnumbered and outgunned."

Teal'c nodded once in acknowledgment. "They are indeed in a difficult position, particularly now that one of their own has been revealed as a traitor."

"Yeah, isn't that a kick in the pants? I guess we just have a talent for finding the traitors in places we go." Jack shrugged and rocked his chair forward onto two legs, hard enough to make it creak. "You know I meant what I said about helping, right? I'm not leaving here until we can make sure of their safety."

Teal'c eyed him thoughtfully. "There is no safety on this world, O'Neill. Nor any other."

Jack amended, "Safer, at least. I can't help the feeling that it could be me, y'know. I could _be_ one of those bastards at Valhalla. But it's not right -- if they were really protecting the Constitution, then they should _help_ Markus. Hell, they should've been trying to do what Markus is doing, but years ago." He grimaced. "But they're not. They're out for power. And I don't intend to let them get away with it, if I can help it."

"At the cost of our swift return home?" Teal'c asked, one eyebrow raised.

O'Neill chuckled. "Well, if we had the option of a 'swift return home' I'd worry about it more. But that doesn't seem to be available, does it?"

Teal'c was spared answering his mostly rhetorical question by the door opening.

Erin came in, greeted the four guys playing basketball with insults and a grin, and then shouted across the court, very casually, "There you are! Can I talk to you two a minute?"

She did not have the bearing of someone who just found out one of her fellow councilors was a traitor.

Jack admired her acting ability as they followed her into the hall. "Not here," she said shortly, and led the way into a small workout room nearby. Furnished with one mirrored wall and plastic mats, O'Neill presumed it was for martial arts or yoga or something similar, but at the moment it was deserted. Erin shut the door behind them and then regarded them with her arms folded.

"I think I need your help," she said.

Jack held out his hands, offering himself for whatever she had in mind. "Sure. Anything."

She nodded and let out a little sigh. "We found evidence in Lee's room. I think he's going to cooperate. But he brought up a point -- now that he's been found out, his usefulness to Valhalla is pretty much over. There might be other plans set in motion once the word spreads. Other spies."

Jack nodded his understanding. "Sleepers." It made sense. A horrible, nasty kind of sense, but sense. If Lee was not the only spy here, his backup couldn't be as highly placed, but might have another mission altogether.

"Right. And quite frankly, you -- oddly enough -- are on the short list of people I can trust. If you were from Valhalla Sector you would never have fingered Lee. "

"What do you want us to do? Look for anyone else we think could be a spy?" O'Neill asked.

"No." She corrected herself immediately, "Well, yes, of course, if you see something suspicious, tell someone. But that's not what I had in mind." She shifted her weight, and tugged at the hem of her white tank-top, ill at ease. "Lee said, and I agree that it's possible, that the main thing our enemy can do now to hurt us is to kill Markus. They tried once before, about a month ago. Someone shot him when he was Outside, talking to the people in Danbury. Ironically, if Lee hadn't been right there, he might have died. If there's a 'sleeper' agent here, he or she might try again." Erin paced away from them, and stared into the mirror for a long moment, thinking dark thoughts.

"It could be anyone," she said softly. "Or at least anyone who wasn't here during the Big Death -- I don't see how Valhalla could have gotten to them. But there are almost two thousand people living here now who came here or were born later. But whoever it is, it's somebody we trust -- because we trust everyone here." She turned back around to face them, her face set and resolute. "But you're strangers, and from what I know, you're capable. You won't hesitate, like any of us would, if it's one of our friends."

"You wish us to protect Markus Alexander." Teal'c was not asking a question, just confirming what he was sure she meant.

"Yes. Because if they're going to try something, it's going to be now -- Lee's out of the picture, and the meeting in St. Louis makes Markus a bigger threat. There's no one to replace him, and I'm sure they know that. We," her arm moved in a wide arc, indicating everyone in Thunder Mountain, "are here because of him. Some like to think they could carry on as well, but it's not true. Markus has … a gift. If he's gone, then this whole … thing, this idea -- and I don't know, maybe the whole damn future, goes with him."

Jack nodded, but he noticed one detail she wasn't mentioning. "Does he know about this?"

She grimaced. "No. And he won't like it." She couldn't help a short laugh. "Okay, to be honest, he'll hate it. He'll tell you to get lost, if he catches you at it. That's why you have to be … discreet."

He was going to say how difficult a task it would be to bodyguard someone who wasn't supposed to know they were being guarded, but Teal'c spoke first. "I accept this charge, Erin Gant. However, I will require the return of my zat'nik'tel."

She blinked at him. "Your what?"

"The hand weapon," Teal'c explained patiently. "One shot stuns."

"We call it a zat gun for short," O'Neill explained as an aside. "It would be kind of handy, if we're going to be bodyguards. Plus it leaves people alive to be questioned."

She hesitated, and he could see the conflict in her expression. But in the end, the risk to Markus' life won out over her discomfort at having them wear weapons inside the mountain. "All right, I'll get it for you."

Jack said with a smile he hoped was reassuring, "Nothing's gonna happen, Erin. But we'll make sure of it. Where can we find him?"

"He said his office. He was, uh, not in a good mood," she said, with obvious and massive understatement, given what Jack remembered of Markus' expression in the control room. He had been profoundly upset by the discovery, and finding evidence had probably not helped.

"I'm sure," O'Neill nodded. "We're on it. And we'll try not to let him catch us."

"Thank you. Both of you."

After she'd left, O'Neill turned to Teal'c. "You volunteered kind of quickly there, buddy."

Teal'c raised his brow at O'Neill. "Did you not state only minutes ago that you wished to help these people, O'Neill? Is not the preservation of Markus Alexander's life the most useful task with which to help them?"

"Yes, yes, of course it is," O'Neill agreed quickly. He bounced a little on the mat, glad that his boots were no longer squishing. "But I don't know how we're supposed to guard someone without him figuring it out. He's not an idiot."

"Then we will merely continue to guard him with his knowledge," Teal'c declared.

\---+---

After breakfast, the captain walked casually down the hall acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. But this morning he had heard the news that Lee had been sent to the brig. Why? After all this time, how had Lee finally gotten caught?

It didn't matter. He knew his duty and his assignment. The most important thing was the master key. Colonel Simmons had given it to Lee and now it was up to him get it. It must not fall into Markus' hands.

Andrew walked by and gave him a preoccupied nod. The Captain smiled back and continued. When he got to Lee's door, he opened it and walked in. The room had been searched already, but with any luck, not for the key. He pulled out the desk drawer and dumped the plastic bin full of coins, keys, paperclips, and other small pieces of random junk on the floor. The key was easy enough to spot and scoop up.

The Captain pocketed the key and walked out. The whole escapade had taken less than two minutes. Now it was time to report what had happened and get his new orders.


	6. Chapter 6

**March 17, 2004**

In Valhalla Sector, the Tok'ra Malek watched as Libby half-carried Devon out of the interrogation room. General Waverly and Colonel Simmons stared at the retreating forms with disgust. Malek wanted to help Libby with Devon, but he had to stay behind. He couldn't risk revealing his true loyalties.

"Tell me, Doctor Fukizaki," Simmons asked, turning toward Malek, "have you come any closer to developing a vaccine? You've been here since the initial outbreak. One would think you'd have found something by now." There was a tinge of threat in his voice to which Chuan took offense.

Malek calmed his host down before answering aloud, in Chuan's human tone. "Yes, I believe so. I put all my findings in my reports," Malek answered blandly, revealing nothing of the inner turmoil. "The virus is unique, and keeps changing, evolving, much like the AIDS virus. There is a particular receptor that resides--"

"I don't need the specifics, Doctor," Simmons interrupted. "How much more time do you need?"

"I still don't have the key, Colonel," Malek began pointedly, since it was Simmons' job to get that key from Devon. Malek took every opportunity he could to needle Simmons, especially in front of Waverly.

_We have so few amusements,_ Chuan teased him inwardly, and Malek agreed, wanting to smile.

When they had first come to Earth and were mistaken for the scientist Doctor Gordon Fukizaki, they had willingly retreated into Valhalla thinking it was the ideal location to help the Tau'ri discover the cure for the virus. It hadn't taken long to realize that the command structure was headed into corruption and saving the human race would prove more difficult than they'd first envisioned. Fifteen years had passed, and while they hadn't exactly been prisoners in Valhalla, their mission had evolved and kept them there.

A young lieutenant came bursting through the door, stopping Simmons before he could retort.

"General Waverly, sir. Colonel Simmons." The young man struggled to catch his breath. "There's a call for you from Thunder Mountain. Lee Chen's been arrested."

Waverly looked stricken, but Simmons didn't look surprised at all.

"How?" Waverly barked.

"Well, he was a little vague. I didn't really understand. Something about a big ring? And four old --" he corrected himself hastily, "Big Death survivors coming inside the mountain. But he claimed that one of them is Major O'Neill."

Malek's mind went racing. Big ring? Could it possibly be a chappa'ai? How had Thunder Mountain obtained one?

_There had to be one here on Earth long ago_,Chuan reminded him. _The stories tell of it being buried in the rebellion. The Tau'ri must have found it_.

_But how could Major O'Neill, of all people, have come through it? That's impossible,_ Malek wondered, in confusion. Then he and Chuan realized with a chill of dread, at exactly the same time, something much worse. _If the Goa'uld discover it is operational, they will come. Either Ra will return to defend his territory, or someone else will try to conquer it for his own gain. The Tau'ri are not powerful enough to resist._

Malek reined in their panic. _This is only a second-hand report. And there is nothing we can do at this time, even if it is true. But this is vital news about Lee Chen, we must listen_.

He refocused his attention outward to what Waverly and Simmons were saying.

"Chen requested O'Neill's help with a mission," Simmons mused aloud. "How does this relate to Chen's compromise? Maybe he was caught trying to meet with O'Neill."

"The captain is waiting for further orders," the lieutenant prompted.

"I'll take care of this," Simmons announced. Then he followed the messenger out of the room.

Waverly turned to Malek. "You've met Major O'Neill. Do you think it's possible he might have ingratiated himself with Markus Alexander by revealing that Lee is a spy?" he asked, obviously on a different track than Simmons.

Malek thought quickly about how much to say. General Waverly had only discussed with him Thunder Mountain and Markus Alexander in terms of being Valhalla's enemy. Alexander supposedly held a tight grip on his people, had control of advanced weaponry, and was beginning to move aggressively into his surrounding territory. But what could he offer that would convert a military officer to his side? "I don't know, General. Perhaps the colonel's man is simply mistaken. If not, could there be a strategic purpose for the disclosure?"

Waverly nodded. "Oh yes. Alexander is gathering his different factions in St Louis next week, where they're planning a coup against the United States government. We of course will not let that happen." With that last remark, Waverly strode out, leaving Malek and Chuan alone in the interrogation room.

Malek frowned, disturbed by the contradiction between what Waverly had told them before and this new information. _That cannot be correct. If he is the dictator Waverly has always claimed, why would he go all the way to St. Louis to meet with people he commands?_

_Maybe he isn't what we have been led to believe,_ Chuan suggested. _After all, think of how he characterizes Devon, when we know Devon is ethically and morally superior._

Malek agreed. Until they knew Thunder Mountain's true intentions, they were at the mercy of Waverly's propaganda as much as anyone. But now knowing that intention had become more urgent, if there was a chappa'ai within Thunder Mountain.

Chuan went on, _I would believe Lee would go over to their side before O'Neill. Lee at least seemed like he learned something from Devon when he was young._

That was an excellent point. Lee had been close to Devon for most of his adolescence, before they'd fallen out over Lee's joining the military._ Devon has outside sources of information. I wonder if Lee is one of them. Maybe their arguments were more staged than we believed._

_We should contrive to speak to Devon and find out what he knows about Thunder Mountain and this meeting in St. Louis._

_\---+--- _

Time was running out. They had to leave within two days for the big meeting, yet nothing had been decided about Lee. Markus had not forced himself to go visit, though it was nearly noon. He felt sick to his stomach every time he thought about it. How much had Lee told Valhalla Sector about them? He claimed to have revealed nothing major, but could Markus believe him?

A knock sounded at his door. "Come on in," Markus called.

Sam Carter poked her head in. "Am I disturbing you? Want me to come back later?"

Markus smiled fondly at her, grateful for the distraction. He waved her in to a seat at the table, and he scooted his chair from the computer over to join her. "No, not at all. I'd welcome a break from my own thoughts."

"I came to report my progress. I've done all I can do inside the mountain, now I need--"

"You want to leave?"

She gave a little sheepish smile and nod. "Like you said, in order for us to safely power the gate, I need more energy than is currently available." She cleared her throat. "In our reality, we have a mineral called naquadah. It's not native to Earth. In fact the Stargate is made out of it."

Markus nodded his head, indicating for her to proceed.

"Naquadah is also a very efficient power source that I can use to open the wormhole."

He frowned. "Isn't that a bit redundant? You need naquadah in order to power a gate also made of naquadah."

"In a nutshell, yes. Basically, the naquadah in the gate is in the wrong form. But after I build a naquadah generator, you'll be able to use it to run the whole mountain for decades, including the Stargate if you wish. It's efficient, waste-free, and very stable when handled properly," she explained enthusiastically, trying to sell him on the idea.

He was intrigued by the idea of some unknown mineral. Had Earth gotten unlucky in the distribution of this mineral during planetary formation or was there some other reason that it didn't exist here? But he supposed that wasn't really the point. He asked, "If this mineral isn't found on Earth, how do you plan on getting some?"

She folded her hands together tightly, and looked apprehensive. "This is the tricky part. I know we've alluded to an enemy in space; one that we're fighting against in our reality. Well, they're called the Goa'uld. We suspect there's one here on Earth. His name is Seth. He'll have some, and we take it from him."

"Take, not trade?" Markus asked sternly.

She shook her head. "There is no negotiating. To him and his kind, humans exist only as slaves to use and abuse as he sees fit. The Goa'uld believe they're gods, and demand to be worshipped. Seth in particular has a biological agent - a mind-control drug -- that ensures his followers' devotion. It won't be easy taking anything from him."

Markus stood and went to look at the Stargate. For just a moment, he wished that he had never learned anything about the Stargate or these travelers or aliens. But life had stopped giving him what he wanted when he'd watched his parents die, and he'd long since realized the futility of such wishes. His only wish now was to build a better future, and he couldn't do that if he didn't know the reality of the present.

He turned back to her. "How do you plan on doing this?"

"Don't know, yet. We need to find him first, hence the reason for my intrusion. Can I have access to the big board? I need to reprogram the satellite computers a bit to look for him." Sam hesitated. "I presume you know about the big board."

Markus was torn. Only select people had access to the old NORAD control room. It was his main way of monitoring Valhalla Sector's activities, and he was very wary of allowing anyone else near it. Most people in Thunder Mountain didn't even know it existed. It was also on the list of places the council had said were off-limits to the four visitors. Normally the prohibition wouldn't concern him too much, but it wouldn't be too smart to upset Andrew and Kate right before he was about to leave, not when he was already short one supporter with Lee sitting in a cell.

"I promise not to break it," she added encouragingly.

"What exactly do you intend to do?"

"Well," she took a deep breath, "I want to access the satellites and do a search for naquadah. It lets off a form of nuclear radiation that should be detectable. In our reality, it's masked by the population. I'm hoping that here I can detect it. I know it's like searching for a needle in a haystack, but I've got to try."

He crossed to the bookshelf, making her turn in her chair to follow him. "Let's say you locate a candidate, what happens next?"

"We travel to him and get the naquadah, if it turns out our target was correct. If not, we return and try again."

"He'll give it up so easily?"

She turned faintly pink. "Well, I expect he'll resist. But we know how to deal with him."

He sat on the couch, which rested against the wall at the end of the bookshelves, leaning forward with his hands clasped loosely under his chin. "You realize that taking Jack and Murray out there is a risk. They're too old to pass unnoticed."

"Let's take it one step at a time. Can I use it?"

"Yes," Markus acquiesced. The real question was whether he trusted her alone in the room, since he had no time to watch her himself. No, the real question was whether he trusted anyone else to work alongside her, knowing there was at least one more spy. "Code 2142 will open the outer door."

"Thank you," she said with relief in her eyes. Sam must have realized he had placed his trust in her.

"Let me know what you find."

She thanked him again and backed out of the room. Markus looked down at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, which had come out of his pocket. It was supposed to be his opening remarks for St. Louis, but it had no coherent thoughts. With a shake of his head, he rose and shoved the paper back in his pocket, deciding to confront Lee. He wanted to question his ex-chief of security in private. It was now lunchtime, so hopefully everyone was eating and they wouldn't be disturbed.

\---+---

Lee sat patiently on the cot. His prison walls were the typical slate gray with bars across the front, facing an empty cell just like it. The small area outside the bars had one chair for visitors. Not that he'd had any visitors. While he was happy not to have to answer to Jeremiah, he actually felt hurt that Markus hadn't come to talk to him. He drew his knees up to his chin and contemplated his future.

As far as Valhalla Sector was concerned, he was a dead man. Could his life here at Thunder Mountain be reclaimed? Maybe not exactly as before, but something approximating useful?

The door clicked open and Markus stepped inside. For a moment, Lee had a view of the corridor and the back of someone else standing guard, then the door closed behind Markus.

"Hello, Lee."

"Markus," he returned.

Markus stood outside the bars, gazing at him intently. His face and eyes were stony, giving nothing away. "No one is here now, tell me everything. Why you betrayed me."

Lee squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them slowly. "I haven't betrayed you, Markus. I was sent to Thunder Mountain to see how much of a threat you were to them. Slowly, I began to see that your way made much more sense and I did everything I could to make sure you _weren't_ seen as a threat. I lied about your plans, how much of the base was active, how many people we have … Even when I told the truth, I tried to shade it so Waverly wouldn't be too alarmed."

Markus' expression didn't flicker. "What do they know about us?"

"They know who you are, who your father was. They're afraid of your ideas, but as long as you stay in the mountain you pose no threat. Cancel St. Louis, please," he begged.

"No. I can't, Lee. I need to proceed from strength. If we're going to unite this country against martial rule, it has to start somewhere. And I plan to start it this week. Remember learning 'for the people by the people'? Have the military at Valhalla forgotten their own constitution?"

Lee couldn't help a snort. "They sure talk about it a lot. But I doubt any of them have read it since the Big Death. They know only power. Power over the Big Death -- power over--"

"Do they know about Meaghan?"

"No. I told you before. The reason I had the control room active was because I was hoping to discover if there's someone else here working for them. I wasn't spying on you or anybody else. I can't protect you if I don't have all the facts."

"What do they know about St. Louis?"

Taking a deep breath, Lee answered, "They asked me about it, so they heard from someone else. But it could be anyone, either in here or outside. I claimed I didn't know what day it was set, that it was all very secret."

"Answer the question. What do they know?" Markus repeated, folding his arms, and looked at him.

Lee swallowed thickly. He had never had this side of Markus directed at him before, and seen it only rarely. The compassion he usually displayed was locked down tight and replaced by pure intellect. A person could freeze to death from the chill in his eyes. The only way to get the real Markus back was to tell the truth, however painful it might be.

He answered, "That you have called together a meeting of local leaders. That you want to unite them. They take it as a direct challenge, I think. As I said, Simmons asked me if I knew the day, so I don't think they know exactly when, but certainly they know it's going to be soon."

Markus nodded once. "When we went to Danbury, did you know they were going to try and kill me?"

Lee leaped to his feet, his hand outstretched and shaking his head. "No, Markus. I didn't tell them anything about it. And I didn't know. I swear."

It about killed him to see the doubt in Markus' face. Could he really believe that Lee would have put him in a position to get killed and then tried so hard to save his life after he was shot? God, he still remembered the panic he'd felt with Markus' blood all over his hands, knowing his hope for a better future was failing right in front of his eyes.

Their eyes met, and Markus slowly nodded, the ice cracking just a little. "I believe you," he said, and Lee let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "You saved my life. You could have just let me die, and no one would ever have known. But you didn't. I suppose that's why I find the rest of this so hard to understand."

"I would never just sit there and let you die. Even before we met," Lee said softly. "Just listening to Simon, I knew that Thunder Mountain was a special place. Nobody talks about Valhalla Sector that way. And for damn sure nobody talks about Waverly or President Emerson the way Simon talked about you. At first I tried to resist, just do my job. But y'know, Devon was there for me a long time ago, and taught me what was right. That's what I saw here. But he didn't want me to tell you, especially once Jeremiah came into the picture."

Markus saw through that excuse pitilessly. "You played all three of us against each other, doling out information as _you_ chose and keeping us otherwise in the dark. But that ends, Lee. I don't care if Devon and I are really on the same side or not, you have to choose one of us."

Lee sat heavily on the cot, making it creak. "I already did, Markus. I chose you. I should've told you. A long time ago when I figured it out. But I thought… shit, I don't know what I thought… I just got so caught up in it, thinking I knew what was best… " He rubbed his hands over his face once and then glanced back up at Markus. "I'm sorry. That's the best I can say it, and I know it sounds stupid. But it's true."

Markus unfolded his arms, and put his hands in his pockets. He paced in front of the bars, back and forth, thinking. Then he stopped again in front of Lee. He didn't look coldly furious anymore, just determined. _This_ Markus, Lee knew. This was the leader of Thunder Mountain.

"Tell me something I don't know, Lee. Something about them."

"Paranoia is a way of life there. Hardly anybody trusts anybody else."

"What a shock," Markus commented dryly. "What about the Big Death? Was Simon right, is there going to be a 'B' 'D' two?"

"I don't know," Lee shook his head. "They have a vaccine, or they had one they thought was working, but instead, the virus mutated and after a long lag phase it killed everyone infected. Devon told me the current focus is on containing the mutant strain. So, they have a team go out and burn everyone who might have it, or been in contact with the subjects who were forced to take the vaccine. Those are the villages that Simon and, later, Jeremiah and Kurdy found."

"The Burners," Markus murmured and shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes against the mental pictures. "God, how could they …?"

Lee felt shame and he let it show plainly on his face. Markus needed to know. "I'm not with them anymore. I'm on your side, Markus."

Markus took a deep breath and focused again on his questions. "And Devon? He's Jeremiah's father? How does he fit into all of this?"

"Devon was one of the researchers involved in the creation of the original virus. He won't tell them how to make the vaccine."

"Why?" Markus cried. "It could…" then he stopped. Lee saw the instant he understood by the sudden slump of his shoulder and how he shut his eyes, looking pained. "He can't because it would give them complete control over it."

"Yes, exactly. The other scientists there, they can't seem to crack the virus to design a vaccine or a cure. Devon holds the key, but they don't have any leverage against him, because he knows what they'll do with it." He stood up again, hunched into his jacket, and approached the bars a few steps. "That's why Jeremiah can't go anywhere near Valhalla, Markus. They would use him to break Devon, to gain the knowledge they want so badly."

Markus' eyebrows drew together and he appeared to be thinking deeply. After a moment, he asked, "What did you tell them about the four who came through the ring?"

"Nothing. But I did ask Major O'Neill to come to Millhaven so I could check out that there were really two of them."

"Major O'Neill? Millhaven?"

Lee smiled a little at the surprise on Markus' face. "Yeah, _Major_ Jonathan O'Neill is alive and kicking at Valhalla Sector, although he's not that well liked by the brass. He kind of has his own way of doing things. Millhaven is a town northeast of here that's Valhalla's western base of operations."

"I take it you saw this major?"

"Yes, I did. There are really two of them. They're both smart-asses, that much I can tell you."

"He's close-by right now?"

"Well, no. I sent him out on a wild goose chase up to the Maclaren Base to give myself time to think. I was so sure _Colonel_ O'Neill was a fraud, that I didn't let myself think of the possibility it could be true. Alternate realities?"

"Apparently," Markus said absently, his thoughts elsewhere. "You said before that Simmons was your boss. Talk to me about the command structure."

"William Emerson is president --"

Markus frowned. "He was a senator at the Big Death, wasn't he?"

"Right, and he's their civilian figleaf," Lee said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Elected by a majority of Valhalla Sector, for his third term two years ago. But he's not really in charge. General Waverly is -- though I'm not sure Emerson realizes it. Waverly's the official head of all the military, although he is technically Army. He's the one putting the screws to Devon to get the virus and rule the world. But the United States can't have the head of the military as the president, so he needs a front man. That's where Emerson comes in. Each past president has been hand picked by Waverly to be compliant and supportive.

"The other man in control is Colonel Simmons -- head of intel and probably the smartest guy in the whole command structure. Simmons is the guy behind Waverly, the one with all the dirty secrets, and the plans, and the ethics of a shark. He's also the one who found out this base was still functional, despite Quantrell's sob story about being the only survivor." Lee considered what he had said and decided he was being unfair. "I shouldn't give you the impression that Emerson's an empty puppet or a good man, by any means. He's a believer, too. The three of them are very happy to run the place."

"Anyone else?"

Lee shrugged. "There are officers and staff just like everywhere. They pretty much do what they're told." Then he thought of something that had always puzzled him. "There's one other person, Dr. Gordon Fukizaki. I was never sure where he fit. He runs the vaccine program, and answers to Waverly directly. He's part of the inner circle and he's even been in the same room when they torture Devon. But he's also helped Devon occasionally with medicine or to get the brass to leave him alone. Devon thinks he's okay." Lee shook his head in confusion. "I don't know; it's hard to tell. He's a quiet guy. Kind of odd. Spends his time in his quarters when he's not in the lab." Lee shrugged again.

Markus was no longer listening, Lee could tell. He had that look on his face, which meant he was taking all the bits of info and putting it together. So Lee was not entirely surprised when his next question seemed to come out of nowhere. "Is Major O'Neill coming back?"

"I'm sure. He's going to wonder why I sent him to Maclaren, when there's nothing there."

"Good." Markus looked pleased about it, though Lee wasn't sure why.

"Are you going to release me?" Lee asked hopefully.

"Not yet. We'll see."

Less hopefully, Lee tried, "You're not going to St. Louis, are you?"

"Everything you've told me makes it more important than ever that we unite against Valhalla Sector."

Lee slumped back in defeat. Markus was heading to disaster, and he couldn't do anything to help.

\---+---

Markus left the brig, to find Daniel behind him.

"Can I help you?"

"I want to go to the meeting in St. Louis. Jack said I had to get your okay."

Markus studied him, surprised. "Last I heard he didn't think it was a good idea at all."

"I badgered him about it," Daniel admitted, with a mischievous look.

"I bet. You must be the only one not trying to talk me out of going." Markus sighed. "Jack's right. It's not a good idea. I appreciate that you're interested. It's even sort of flattering. But this isn't your world."

"It might become our world if we can't leave," Daniel pointed out. His blue eyes were very earnest, open and innocent in a way that Markus had never seen in the children of the Big Death. "This is what I do, Markus. I learned how to fight, use a gun, all those things, but I'm still a historian at heart. I want to understand how this horrible thing happened and how your generation learned to cope, and then see what happens next."

Markus regarded him for a moment, impressed by the enthusiasm but amused by the naivete. Daniel seemed to think he could do an anthropological study on "The Development of Post-Big Death Culture and its Movement toward Civilization", even though most of the world Outside would sooner stab him for his shoes as answer his questions.

But at the same time, he realized he wouldn't mind Daniel's company in St. Louis. Talking to him was a little like talking to Meaghan -- they were both older with greater experience and a desire to share it.

"All right, I'll make you a deal," he answered finally. "First, you talk to Jeremiah and Kurdy about what it's like Outside. And then I'll _think_ about bringing you along."

Daniel opened his mouth to complain about the unfairness of the "deal" but Markus just gave him a look, not in a mood to put up with whining. "That's my offer. I am _not_ going to bring you along if I think you'll make my job harder. Deal?"

Daniel seemed to understand that the offer wasn't going to get better. He hesitated only a moment and then nodded. "All right. Thank you. And I'll be able to help you."

"Do what? Be my body guard?" Markus teased. He was rather amused by how quickly and deeply Daniel flushed at the suggestion. The archaeologist looked guilty, strangely enough.

Then he saw one of his recon teams emerge from the stairs into the corridor ahead of him. "Now, excuse me Daniel, I need to talk to them." He hurried after them, calling, "Brian! Steve!"

Daniel took the hint and let him go, with a little wave.

At the end of the corridor, Markus turned his head to see Daniel still loitering there, as if he didn't know where to go. But when he turned back to Steve and Brian, all thoughts of Daniel and his odd behavior went out of his thoughts. "I've got a job I'd like you to attend to. You've seen Jack, right?"

They nodded, and so he told them his plan.

\---+---

Sam put her chin on her fist and waited as small red lights began to come up on the map of the world that took up one wall of the NORAD facility. She knew she was going to have to wait for the satellites to complete the necessary number of passes to cover North America. There wasn't, she'd decided, much point in paying any attention to the rest of the world. There was no way to get there, even if she found something.

At first, she'd done a run-through on bases that were still operational. That only took a few minutes. Markus had given her the series of commands for that, since it was something he watched closely himself. Then, she had run a list of active satellites to find something she could use. Several satellites were dead and there were even more whose orbit had shifted. Calculating the differences took the better part of an hour, but once she'd been able to correct the orbital changes, she was able to start the modifications for her own search.

For the first sweep she eliminated the known bases and concentrated on general power usage. This should give her background consumption. While that was in progress, she began imputing the parameters for a radiation scan.

Rather to her surprise, the computer system had worked efficiently for its age. Even the printer had given her a sheet, after she had unthinkingly ordered a printout. It was dot-matrix and the ink was light, but it still worked. This was one system she didn't need to concern herself with. Yet why and how it ran so smoothly piqued her interest.

Popping off the housing for the terminal, she found that someone had replaced several of the circuit boards with homemade ones. She traced the pathways of the old-fashioned nature of the wires and transistors with a finger, admiring the spare elegance of the work. Nothing was wasted; everything was precise. Even more impressive, it worked. These child-survivors of the Big Death might have lost skills, but as she had also learned while working on the power system, Thunder Mountain was expert at improvising and making the most with what they had.

But there was only so much examination of circuit boards even a tech-head like herself could take. So now she waited.

She sipped at her cold coffee, and began taking notes on the back of the printout as each light came up on the radiation scan. As night fell, she was going to look for artificial lights, though she wished she had access to one of the more precise modern recon satellites.

The door creaked behind her, and Sam turned to see Markus enter. "I came to see how you were doing," he said, standing only a few paces in from the door. He folded his arms and looked up at the big board with a meditative expression on his face. Sam couldn't tell if he was really seeing it, or thinking about something else entirely.

"The radiation scan is in progress," she reported.

Markus glanced at the readout in the corner that identified the satellite in use and frowned. "Alpha particle radiation? But every nuclear source and even old uranium mines will put that off."

Sam was surprised by the depth of knowledge betrayed by the comment. "Yes, that's true," she agreed slowly. "That's why I'm going to cross-check it tonight against places where the lights are too bright. Seth likes to be comfortable, so he'll be using artificial lights. From what I've heard there's not a lot of electricity usage out there. But how did you know about the type of radiation?"

He shrugged, and didn't take his eyes off the board. "I'd be a poor steward of this place if I didn't know its capabilities, wouldn't I?"

She smiled, realizing he had a point. "I suppose that's true. I don't generally expect my teammates to know what I'm talking about -- I'm surprised that you do."

"I had a very different childhood," he said, sort of an answer to her unspoken question. Sam knew there was a lot of deliberate understatement in those words. But then, even though she had lost her mother around the same age he'd lost both of his parents, she simply could not imagine losing every adult on the planet at the same time. But she could see that he had been driven not to lose their knowledge and had educated himself to a rather impressive level, considering the circumstances.

"That's for sure," she agreed. "None of you could really _be_ children anymore after the Big Death."

He glanced at her quickly and his lips parted as if to speak, but he changed what he was going to say. "No," he agreed. "Not in here, and not Outside."

"But still," she patted the terminal with a smile, "I'm impressed by how much you've saved. I peeked in here and I found circuit boards someone made. And yesterday there were some relays and a junction box that really shouldn't have been working at all, except one of your engineers had cobbled together something really amazing. I think it had been there quite awhile too. You've got some talented people here."

"I'll be sure to pass that along," Markus said. "If there's nothing you need, I should be going."

"No, I'm fine." She glanced up at the map and couldn't help a sigh. Only a third of the passes were complete. "I just have to wait."

"I'm told dinner will be meatloaf and mashed potatoes. We grow very nice potatoes, Sam. Don't miss them," he advised and headed out.

Sam rolled her eyes at his back. It seemed that no matter what universe she was in, someone was always nagging her to leave her work and go eat.

Some forty minutes later, she had a list of some forty-six possible sites scattered across the fifty states, Canada and Mexico. She muttered something from basic training, and took another sip of coffee.

She spat it back into the cup. It had gone from disgusting to foul. She considered getting another cup, but she'd have to go to the commissary. And around here, the commissary was all the way at the bottom of the mountain. That was too far.

Resigning herself to a lack of coffee while she finished collecting data, she started to go through her list. The colonel would probably be able to help identify some of the sites -- she suspected that some of them were old ICBM silos that had been decommissioned in her reality.

The door opened behind her again, and she turned, expecting one of her teammates or Markus. But it was none of them. Elizabeth smiled in greeting as she pushed the door open with her shoulder, balancing a tray. She had a wonderful kindness in her face that Sam had warmed to the moment they'd met at dinner yesterday.

"Hi. I brought you dinner. Markus said you probably weren't going to come down, so someone should go up to you with a tray. I also brought coffee."

Sam stood up and cleared a space on the desk for her to bring the tray, grabbing the coffee. "You are an angel. Thank you. Please, would you join me?" she invited. "I've been stuck in this room all by myself with no one to talk to for a couple of hours."

Elizabeth plucked one of the two apples off the tray and settled down into one of the gray roll-around desk chairs. "I already ate, but I brought dessert, just in case you wanted company."

"Perfect." Sam smiled back at her and settled down to her dinner. "So tell me, where _does_ the mountain get meat? Is there a level with a herd of cows I haven't seen?"

Laughing in delight, Elizabeth shook her head. "No, no cattle. Though there are chickens on level ten."

Sam stared at her, trying to imagine chickens instead of the labs and offices of the floor. It couldn't be true. "You're kidding me."

"No, I'm not. Really, we have a dozen or so. For eggs," she explained. "I think it was about ten years ago, when we first began to venture Outside, Markus thought about getting some. We've been breeding them ever since. We eat the extra roosters. All the rest of the meat we get by trade or hunting parties in the mountains. And of course we have huge freezers, so it all keeps a long time."

Sam ate her mashed potatoes thoughtfully, reflecting that Markus had been right, they were quite tasty. "The more I learn about this place the more impressed I am. Honestly, I've gone to work in this place for the last seven years and I can't even imagine trying to run it when I was a teenager. I take it you're one of the original residents?"

Nodding, Elizabeth finished off her apple, core and all, leaving only the stem, which she put on the tray. "My dad was one of the sergeants here." She glanced up at the display, her gaze distant. "He wasn't supposed to, but he brought me in. I was seven." She frowned, thinking back. "I don't remember much before the Big Death anymore. It's like some weird dream."

"I can understand that. You were pretty young." Sam finished her dinner and used her utility blade to section her apple. "Still, I was just saying to Markus how amazing it is that you managed to keep this place up and running. When I volunteered to help upgrade the systems, I thought things would be in much worse shape. There's some talented engineers around here."

Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. "You don't know, do you?" She leaned forward as if confiding a secret. "Sam, Markus is the one that kept this place going. He doesn't do it so much anymore, since now we've got engineering teams, but in the early days if anything broke, we'd bring it to him and he'd fix it. Or if he couldn't fix it, he'd get something to work in its place."

For a moment Sam stared at her in amazement and mushrooming dismay. "Oh God," Sam put her face in her hands and groaned. "I'm sure he thought I was condescending to him when I told him what a nice job someone had done with the computer. Why didn't he tell me to shut up?"

"Well, first, because he's usually not so rude," the amusement in Elizabeth's tone made Sam lift her head. "And second, because he was playing a trick on you. He knew you didn't know, and I'm sure he thought it was funny." She shrugged and rolled her eyes, exactly like an exasperated sibling would. "Markus has sort of an odd sense of humor sometimes. We've all learned to live with it."

Sam looked at the computer at her elbow with new eyes. Without her training and classes in physics and engineering, she doubted she could have done the same; she didn't have the innate mechanical aptitude. She had known an auto mechanic who had dropped out of school at eighth grade but who could fix any engine. This was similar, but she suspected it was really something else. There had to be more, something she wasn't seeing. Something that connected Markus to the Tok'ra Malek in her reality. The Tok'ra wouldn't have bothered with a Tau'ri engineer, no matter how talented.

"You've known him a long time," Sam said, gently probing for information.

"All my life. Or so it seems, anyway."

"And has he always been like this?" Sam asked. "I mean, he came to check on me two hours ago, and he's got to have more on his mind than my little project."

Elizabeth nodded. "He likes to know what's going on. He takes his responsibilities very seriously. Always has." She thought for a moment then smiled. "A little too much maybe. Sometimes we have to _make_ him let other people help, since he'd do it all himself otherwise. But he doesn't brag about what he can do, he just does it." She laughed and shook her head. "Not that he doesn't have an ego that barely fits through the door. He thinks he's _always_ right, and he's completely insufferable when he has to say 'I told you so' to anyone." Elizabeth shot a glance at the door, to make sure Markus wasn't coming in and confided, jokingly, but with a serious undertone. "The five percent of the time he's wrong make it possible to live with him."

Sam chuckled. Elizabeth stood up and gathered the tray. "I'll take this. But please return the cup to the cafeteria."

"Of course. Thanks for visiting with me."

"Sure. I hope you're successful with…" she glanced up at the big board, "whatever you're doing here."

Sam watched her leave and then sipped her coffee, thinking. Elizabeth had given her some interesting tidbits of information. But none of it explained how or why Malek had found Markus in her reality.

"Or did Markus find Malek?" she wondered, speaking aloud. The second Stargate had been operational for almost three years. Had Markus found a way off Earth through the other gate and become Malek's host in space?

She shook her head, deciding it didn't matter, until and unless they could get home. Getting home was the priority now.

Turning to the computer she started to input the parameters for the next sweep. With any luck the cross match of electricity and general power usage with the presence of radiation would narrow the field significantly.

\---+---

General Waverly smashed his fist into the wall. Damn that Lee Chen. How could that young man have been so careless as to let himself get caught?

"Sir, the satellite network is moving again. Thunder Mountain is looking for something specific, yet I can't figure out what it is."

The General began pacing, back and forth behind the communications officer. "How narrow is their search?" he asked.

"North America. I wonder if they're trying to find us?" the sergeant asked rhetorically, then turned back to his screen. "Although they're looking at each corner, not only the east. But I can't understand how they were able to unlock the codes to the network, sir, unless someone gave it to them."

But who? The question echoed inside his head. O'Neill? A troublemaker, yes, but loyal all these years. And what about his partner Kawalsky? The captain hadn't mentioned him at all, but the two were peas in a pod and never went anywhere apart. Maybe Gordon was right and this was a mistake.

He needed to know what had happened in Millhaven. Had O'Neill really ratted out Chen? Or had Chen turned traitor, and sought to recruit O'Neill and Kawalsky? Waverly nodded to himself. The latter made more sense. O'Neill and Kawalsky were career soldiers. They complained about their commanders and their orders, but they obeyed them anyway, mostly. They certainly had given no indication of an intent to go AWOL or of support for Thunder Mountain's rebellion. But someone with Chen's slyness might believe that they were ripe for recruitment.

In any case, there were too many questions to leave them loose.

He turned to his aide. "Airman, send a message to Millhaven. I want both O'Neill and Kawalsky picked up and detained for questioning."

\---+---

Daniel carried his dinner tray over to where Kurdy and Jeremiah were finishing up their meal. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

Although Jeremiah looked as if he might object, Kurdy waved him to the seat beside him. "Plenty of space. Elizabeth just left to take one of your friends dinner."

"Thanks." Daniel sat down and unfolded his cloth napkin. It looked like it had been cut out of curtains, since it was a large violet and green floral pattern. "I've been wanting to talk to you. Markus said that you two know a lot about the outside world."

"Yeah, we grew up out there," Kurdy said. He finished his food, pushed his tray to the side, and put his elbows on the table. "Didn't find this place 'til about a year ago. To the folk outside it's a legend, the place where the water runs, and the lights are bright. They call it the End of the World."

Jeremiah snorted. "Which sounds all romantic and shit, until you know that the mountain's recon teams purposefully spread the story to get ready for the big day that Thunder Mountain would come roaring out of its hole to save the world."

He said the words sarcastically, but Daniel had enough experience with reading Jack's true meaning to hear the belief underlying the words.

"So what's it like out there?" he asked.

"Tough," Kurdy answered. "People are gettin' by, scraping up the last bits of the old world. Cans of food are like gold, hoarded, used as trade, but rarely opened and eaten. Some people burn books to keep warm. And all our clothes are pretty much falling apart. A few places have started over, planting crops and stuff, but not many."

"A guy with friends and some guns can rule a town," Jeremiah added. "It's like the wild west from the old movies, but without any sheriffs."

"They're not all bad," Kurdy went on. "Some places are organized, kind of like this place -- they've got their leaders, some infrastructure and planning. But only on a town-by-town basis."

Daniel nodded thoughtfully. "Since you say that resources are getting scarce, I imagine there's fighting over them." The other two gave him a 'well, duh' look. Daniel decided to shift to something more useful to the mission to get home. "I presume also there are a whole bunch of religions and cults that have sprung up."

Jeremiah and Kurdy exchanged a look. "Yeah," Kurdy agreed. "You'd be right."

"Do you know of any Egyptian-based ones?" Daniel asked. He smiled when they both gave him a puzzled look. "I'm an Egyptologist by training," he explained. "I'm curious if any of that has come back into popularity."

Jeremiah shook his head and shrugged. But Kurdy seemed to be thinking about it a little more. "Egypt. Yeah, there was something…. They had a thing for cats, right?"

"Yes. Their gods were Ra. Apophis. Hathor. Osiris. Seth." Daniel reeled off the names, looking for recognition in either of their faces.

"Seth," Kurdy blurted. "Someone talked to us about Seth."

Jeremiah straightened, memory pricked by the same name, and glanced across at Kurdy. "No, man, it wasn't us. Remember? It was in Simon's journal. Some girl in a slinky dress and eyeliner talked to him about worshipping Seth."

"Really?" Daniel couldn't hide his excitement. "What else?"

But neither of them remembered anything more about the entry, so Daniel asked, "Can I see this journal?"

"Markus keeps it when we don't have it," Kurdy said, suddenly wary. Daniel wondered why the journal was so special. "You'll have to ask him."

"I will. Thanks." Daniel decided that was enough. He'd have something to report to Jack about Seth, and hopefully between the information in this journal and whatever Sam could find out, they'd have a clue about Seth's location. At the very least he could confirm that Seth was active.

"Where're the rest of your buddies?" Jeremiah asked after a moment, to break the silence.

The real answer was that Sam was up in NORAD, Jack was on Markus-watch, and Teal'c was resting, to prepare for his shift of Markus-watch that night. But Daniel shrugged, not sure how much he could say. "Around."

In a quieter voice, Kurdy said, "Jeremiah told me about how you guys found proof against Lee. That was good work."

"Well, it's not done yet," Daniel said.

Kurdy frowned, until Jeremiah gave him a significant look. "I told you, Kurdy. What Erin said."

"Oh yeah. That sucks." Kurdy twisted around to glance up at the window of Markus' office. The lights were on up there, though the angle was such that no one could see anything but the ceiling from the cafeteria floor. Then he looked around at the thinning crowd eating and chattering at the tables around them with suspicion in his dark eyes.

Daniel made a decision to let them in on the plan. With Sam busy upstairs, they could use a couple of extra bodies. Lowering his voice to a murmur, he said to his meatloaf, "She asked us to watch out for Markus. She's afraid someone here might come after him, now that Lee's out of the picture."

Kurdy's eyes widened. "No shit."

Daniel nodded. He drank some water and wiped his mouth before answering. "Jack's upstairs right now, keeping a watch on the corridor outside his office."

Jeremiah chuckled in disbelief. "And he's actually allowing this?"

"He doesn't know."

Kurdy's bark of laughter caused quite a few heads to turn. The three of them were quiet until the attention turned away again. Then Kurdy leaned forward. "C'mon, Daniel, he doesn't know about it? And here I thought that nothing happens in the mountain without him knowing about it." He laughed again, more quietly.

"We're trying to be subtle," Daniel said. "But it'd be a lot easier if we had some help. You two interested?"

Kurdy didn't hesitate and didn't look at his friend before answering. "I'm in," he said, his tone and expression abruptly very serious.

Jeremiah's brows drew together sharply in a frown, and his thoughts obviously were not good ones. Then he gave a brief shrug. "I watched somebody shoot him once. I'd rather not see it again. I'm in."

"Great. I'll go tell Jack, and we'll coordinate a schedule." He piled his dishes back on his tray and stood. "Thanks, guys."


	7. Chapter 7

**March 18 **

In the morning, Sam and the rest of her team went to Markus' office to ask about the journal. They found the door open and Kurdy complaining to Markus, "If you want to come with me, would you hurry up?"

"Just a second," Markus said, sounding harassed. He saw the team enter. "I'm sorry; I really don't have time at the moment. Elizabeth and several of the others are leaving, and I've got to get upstairs."

"That's okay," O'Neill entered. "It shouldn't take long. We were wondering if we could look at Simon's journal."

Markus froze and then shot a look at Kurdy.

Shrugging, Kurdy tried a smile. "They were asking about Egyptian cults. Simon wrote something about one. I didn't think it was a secret," he added, in a cajoling tone of voice.

"No, it's not," Markus agreed slowly, frowning slightly. He took a small leather-bound notebook off the top of his bookshelf and started paging through it. "You're right -- I'd forgotten that. Here it is." He handed the opened book to Daniel. "Feel free to read it, but it doesn't leave the room. A good friend of mine died for this, so treat it with respect."

"We will," Daniel promised.

"I hope it helps you." Markus started toward the door, where Kurdy was standing, and then abruptly went back to the computer station to gather a few papers.

"Markus, come on," Kurdy prompted. "I'm gonna go say goodbye to Elizabeth, even if you're not."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Markus waved a hand to them as he hurried out the door, Kurdy at his heels. "I'll be back in a little while."

As soon as the door closed, Jack sat down at the round table. "All right, people, what do we have?"

Sam spread out her papers. "Last night I was able to cross-match my data and I came up with twelve possibles." She handed one sheet to O'Neill. "These are all places that show above-background levels of alpha particle radiation and artificial lighting, suggesting nuclear or naquadah power generation for a settlement." She had identified the twelve sites by general geographic information, such as southwest Idaho, and also more precise longitude and latitude designations.

"Any of them match where he was hanging out when we found him before?" O'Neill asked, perusing the list.

"Unfortunately, no," she answered.

O'Neill grunted and turned to Daniel, who was reading in the little book. "So? Daniel? What does it say?"

Daniel didn't answer at first, turning the page. He turned another page, scanned it, and then put the book down. "Interesting. Simon talked to a woman in a bar in some place called Deer Springs. She had a couple of bodyguards, and was wearing what he describes as a "slinky black dress", eyeliner, and a necklace with a cat pendant. She was there to recruit people. She claimed that by worshipping Seth, a follower could have immortality."

"That does sound like our snaky pal," O'Neill agreed. "Anything more?"

"Well, she also told Simon that "her god" had withstood the Big Death, and anyone who believed in him would not only survive but prosper as well. She claimed that he had hundreds of followers. Simon apparently dismissed her as a cultist, wrapped around one of the few adults who survived the plague. As far as I can see with just a quick read-through, he didn't look into it any further."

O'Neill nodded thoughtfully. "OK, Deer Springs. That was the name, right? Where is it? What state?"

Daniel shrugged. "It doesn't say."

"Well, there's got to be an atlas over there, right?" Jack waved to the bookshelf.

Since Sam was sitting the closest, she got up and started to look. She found no atlas, but a very interesting collection of other books--history, engineering, what looked like the complete set of operation manuals for the mountain systems. A well-thumbed copy of the meditations of Marcus Aurelius. And the entire bottom shelf was full of physics and mathematics textbooks and references.

She bent to take a closer look. One was the same edition of Hearn's _Quantum Mechanics_ that she had used in grad school.

"Carter? What did you find?" O'Neill asked.

Pulling back her hand guiltily, she answered, "Nothing yet, sir." She continued to look for an atlas of some kind, but glanced back at the bottom shelf with its tantalizing books. Why had Markus put a book about quantum mechanics into what looked like his personal collection? Had he studied it? Or was it connected with him at all? Maybe it was a relic of the former base commander and nothing to do with Markus. Those texts certainly didn't look very used.

Wait, was that…? The large blue book sitting horizontally on the top shelf had nothing on its spine, but it looked suspiciously atlas-like. She grabbed it and found it was in fact an atlas of the United States. "I have it." She went back to her chair and went to the index, looking for a town called Deer Springs.

"There are six Deer Springs listed," she announced. A mental comparison between her list and the states of each Deer Springs gave her one match in Kansas. Flipping to the right page, she found Deer Springs and then the coordinates of her brightly lit, radiation emitting site, northwest of Kansas City. Grabbing a pencil from the desk, she circled both sites and slid the atlas across to the colonel. "Here. This is Deer Springs and the other one is one of the twelve places I matched in the satellite data. They're about twenty-five miles apart. It's not far from Fort Leavenworth, though I don't know if that's important. Assuming the priestess wannabe was recruiting close to home and I'm right about my assumptions about Seth's use of naquadah, it should be this one."

O'Neill frowned over the map, and Daniel leaned in close to look too. "You know what they say about assuming things, Carter," he said absently.

She gave a smile and little shrug. "Yes, sir. But sometimes, you just have to approximate."

He shrugged back. "Yeah. At least it's close by. Sort of."

Teal'c, always dependable to be the voice of wisdom, or as Sam had heard O'Neill say once, the voice of doom, pointed out, "If Markus Alexander permits us to leave."

"There is that," O'Neill agreed.

"He didn't say he wouldn't," Sam said, then had to add honestly, "of course he didn't say he _**would**_ either. He said --"

The main door swung open and Markus came back in. He noticed that all four of them were watching him. With light sarcasm, he asked, "I'm sorry - am I interrupting? Should I come back later?"

"No, no, not at all, come in," O'Neill invited broadly, with apparent disregard for the fact that they were guests in Markus' own office. "We think we found our bad guy."

"Oh?" Markus approached. "Where?"

"Here," Sam tapped the map. "Kansas."

"Close to Lawrence," Markus mused, more to himself than to them. He folded his arms and pondered, a frown between his brows

"Is that of some special significance?" Teal'c asked, when Markus said nothing more.

"I don't know," Markus answered. "Maybe."

After another silence O'Neill said, "Well, now that that's cleared up… I was wondering if you're gonna let us go look for our guy?"

Markus wandered away to look through the window. "Do any of you play chess?" he asked.

O'Neill and Daniel exchanged confused looks. Sam answered, "I do. I'm not all that good at it, but I like it. Why?"

"At a certain point a good player will realize that checkmate is inevitable, even though it might not be for a dozen moves. The novice player will continue the game, sending his pieces into the fray, heedless of imminent disaster. And yet sometimes, the novice player can stumble on a winning gambit that the good player might not have considered, through sheer dumb luck."

Sam wondered which role Markus was casting himself in -- was he the good player realizing that defeat was inevitable, or was he the blundering novice?

O'Neill asked dryly, "Do you practice being cryptic or does it come naturally?"

Markus turned back to them. "It's important to get the tone just right," he answered deadpan. Then he straightened and added, "I'll let you know, tonight. There's a lot going on right now. In fact, if you'll all excuse me, I have a meeting in less than ten minutes." When none of them moved, he added, "In this room."

"Oh. Right. No problem." O'Neill rose, gesturing the rest of his team up.

Sam gathered their materials, including the atlas, but handed the journal back to Markus. "Thank you, it was very helpful."

Outside the office, with the door safely closed, O'Neill pointed to Daniel. "Your turn."

"That's the thing, Jack," Daniel said. "Can we leave it --" he glanced at the door and lowered his voice, "to just Jeremiah and Kurdy, if we're all going to find Seth?"

"We'll see what he decides first," Jack said. "He'd have to be an idiot to let us all loose, wouldn't he? And somehow, chess metaphors aside, I don't see it. Do your thing, and we'll see you later. T-man is up next for the midday shift, and I'm after him."

\---+---

Markus seemed deep in thought to Jack, as the colonel shadowed him down the corridor toward his office. Actually, Markus was often lost in his thoughts, which was probably the only reason he hadn't caught onto his guards yet. But between Lee and the St. Louis meeting, it was really no wonder. Jack had overheard him practicing three different versions of his opening remarks so far.

Luckily, nothing had happened that required any of his "guardian angels" to intervene. Jack and the others hovered in the background as Markus moved from place to place, watching anyone who came up to him. There wasn't much they could do about meetings -- Erin was doing all she could to get herself invited to them, as protection.

Someone appeared out of the cross-corridor, stepping out into view ten feet ahead of Markus. Jack had a vague impression that he had seen the young man before, probably at mealtime, but he certainly wasn't one of the council or anyone that Markus seemed particularly close to.

Markus stopped and greeted with him with a puzzled note in his voice, "Terence? Something I can do for you?"

Terence was wearing a worn mish-mash of clothes like they all did -- a bulky too-large navy sweater that hung shapelessly down to his hips and past his hands, loose jeans that once might have been blue, and green canvas boots with holes in the toes. He looked like a little boy playing dress-up in his dad's sweater.

Terence looked behind Markus in the hall and froze when he saw Jack meandering in his direction.

Jack was used to these kids freezing with astonishment when they saw him. Shock was a better reaction than fear, which he got too. But Terence wasn't just surprised, he looked angry. It was a brief expression, passing when he shifted his gaze back to Markus, but it made the back of Jack's neck prickle. He tried not to take it personally - maybe the kid was mad that Jack had survived while his parents had died - but it strengthened his feeling that something wasn't quite right. Ordinarily he would have kept back and let Markus conduct his business, but this time he came closer and made no effort to pretend that he was not watching and listening.

"What is it?" Markus prompted. "Is there something wrong?"

Terence's eyes flicked again over Markus' shoulder to Jack.

Jack put his hand on the handle of the zat beneath his jacket, and whether Terence saw that or not, he shifted his feet and tucked his hands behind his back, looking nervous. "No," he answered. "I, um, I have the system maintenance report."

Markus sounded impatient. "Terence, you know that all reports are supposed to go to the council now."

"I know, but I just thought you --"

Markus shook his head, interrupting him sharply, "No. That's the council's job, and they're welcome to it. Is there anything else?"

"No, I -- I guess not." But Terence didn't move for a moment, as if he still had something to say. But he finally turned away. "Later, Markus."

Jack watched him until he'd gone out of sight and dropped his hand off the zat, relieved that his suspicion had been unwarranted. He turned back to face Markus, who was now frowning at him. Peremptorily he gestured Jack to join him.

Jack had the sinking feeling he had just been made. Markus wasn't _**that**_ distracted. But Jack smiled as he ambled closer, hoping he could bluff his way through. "Howdy, Markus. How's it going?"

"Fine." Markus was still frowning at him, with that slightly sideways puzzled expression of his. "I've seen you around a lot lately."

Jack shrugged. "Just going the same direction I guess."

Folding his arms, Markus looked at him for a long moment. "And Murray was also going my direction at lunch, as I remember. And Daniel was hanging around my office this morning."

Jack shrugged again, trying for careless and unworried. "Well, I guess you're just a popular guy."

"Uh huh." Markus narrowed his eyes, looking more perturbed. "What's going on?"

"Not buying it?" Jack squinted hopefully at him.

"Not in the least."

"Damn." Jack let out a theatrical sigh. "Are you sure you really want to know?"

Markus raised his brows and then looked resigned. "I'm quite sure I don't, but tell me anyway."

"It was Erin's idea actually. She thought -- and I agreed with her," Jack added, in case Markus thought he was just doing it because he'd been told to, "that you might be in some danger. That Valhalla might take this opportunity with the big meeting coming up, to, um, remove you."

Now Markus' face turned thunderstruck, and he stared at Jack, blinking in shock. "So you're _**guarding**_ me?"

"Not just me, all of us. You _**are**_ a popular guy, Markus," Jack added, more seriously. "And it makes sense to keep you that way."

Markus stiffened and drew himself up, lips taut with anger. "I know you mean well. I appreciate the thought. I do. But I'm not going to be followed around by a bodyguard. Not Outside and sure as _**hell**_ not in here. This is my home, and these are my friends. Besides, if there's any danger, I'm perfectly able to take care of myself."

Jack said nothing, just watched with a sort of distant admiration. Erin had been absolutely right. Markus hated this idea. Unfortunately, it wasn't really up to him.

"So you can tell your friends to quit it," Markus continued. "I'll handle Erin myself." With that ominous threat, he turned and started back toward his office, convinced that Jack would stay where he was and let him go his way.

Instead Jack followed at his heels and to his right so he had a clear view of the hall ahead.

At his office door, Markus stopped. He opened his mouth to complain again, but Jack was faster.

"The threat is real, Markus," he murmured. "There's a murderer in this base, and it wasn't Lee. Erin told us. And you have no idea who it is. That person could kill again." Markus still looked mulishly resistant. Jack kept going, trying to talk some sense into him. "Look, I know you hate this, but like it or not, you're a target. You, not to pussy-foot around the truth, are _**the**_ target. So, if me and my friends can keep you from getting killed, that's what we're going to do."

Markus snapped his mouth shut. He considered numerous responses, and grimaced. "You're not going to go away, are you?"

Jack shook his head and answered brightly, "Nope."

"Even if I ask very nicely?" There was a touch of pleading in Markus' voice, which made Jack smile.

"Nope."

Markus turned his head, thinking with his brow furrowed. It took only a moment for him to decide and he looked at Jack again. "Somebody's told you you're a pain in the ass, right?" Markus asked, but his tone was resigned.

Jack knew he had won. So he could be gracious. "It's my middle name."

Markus let out a short sigh as he opened the door. "Since I apparently can't stop you…" he gestured Jack to go first, "I guess I have to live with it."

Jack went inside and automatically swept the room with his gaze to make sure no one was waiting.

Markus shut the door and indicated Jack should sit at the table. "If we're going to have to stand in each other's shadows, I have a few more questions for you on the subject of encircling maneuvers…"

Jack's eyes widened involuntarily as he sat down. God, not more "questions"! The man was a sponge for information. No, more like a black hole -- he didn't just absorb it, he sucked it in irresistibly.

Jack caught sight of a small anticipatory smile on Markus' face, and his heart sank. Markus might have to acquiesce to this plan he didn't like, but that didn't mean Jack was going to get all his own way. Payback was only just beginning.

\---+---

Majors Jack O'Neill and Charlie Kawalsky stopped at the crown of the hill and looked down upon road going into Millhaven.

"Something's wrong," O'Neill stated while looking through the binoculars. A rill of unease slipped down his back. This wasn't good.

"No kidding. First Chen wants to see us, next he sends us on a dead-end mission," Kawalsky complained. "He must've known the place blew up months ago."

"That's not what I mean. Look, the guards on the main road are doubled. You don't suppose they're holding this party for us, do you?"

Kawalsky borrowed the binoculars. After a moment he passed them back, still frowning down at the two gun-mounted jeeps and the almost hidden men in the undergrowth. "Maybe Waverly's coming to visit?"

O'Neill snorted. "Yeah. And Simmons' pet spy sends us on a wild-goose chase for the hell of it. No, something's going down."

"So, we take the back way, just to make sure," Kawalsky suggested, flashing a grin. "Wouldn't want to screw up their little surprise, now would we?"

"Let's visit Wiley. He'll know something."

The two men nodded. They hid the abandoned jeep and made their way to the hidden cabin. Both knew about Wiley's obsession with the Big Death and the "facts" surrounding it. As long as the man wasn't a threat to them personally, he could collect all the old newspapers and paperwork he wanted. In fact, they had donated a few facts to his collection, a time or two. Wouldn't want Waverly to ever be considered a hero.

"Hey, good buddy. What's shaking?" O'Neill entered the man's house boldly.

Wiley was sitting at his table drinking a glass of water, and nearly spat it out in shock when he saw who had come in.

"You?! The whole place is looking for you. Seems that someone in the Mountain's been compromised and they're blaming you."

O'Neill and Kawalsky exchanged looks. "They blame us?" Kawalsky asked in disbelief. "Never even been there. Why us?"

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "Because we have so many friends."

"I heard 'em talking," Wiley added anxiously. "I don't think they know why. The order came from, uh, higher up."

"Swell," O'Neill muttered.

"Chen. Gotta be Chen. He's the only one we know up there." Kawalsky turned to his partner. "Maybe we should talk to him?"

O'Neill's eyes rounded. "And just how are we gonna get to him? Knock on their front door and ask politely?"

Both men turned to look at Wiley. "You know anyone from the inside?" Kawalsky asked.

Wiley held his hands up in surrender. "I don't know anyone from the End of the World. Honest." His eyes were wide and frightened.

In unison, the two majors remarked, "We'll improvise."

"I'd wait 'til dark," Wiley advised.

"Got any food?" Kawalsky asked, getting up and making himself at home by opening and closing the cabinet doors.

It was past dusk when the two men left Wiley's secluded cabin. They debated briefly about going back for the jeep or heading into Millhaven to get more intel. Something weird was happening, and neither of them wanted to get in the middle of it, until they had a better idea of why they'd been targeted.

Time seemed short, so they went back to the car. O'Neill had that creepy cold feeling of unfriendly eyes watching him. He tensed and looked around carefully, but couldn't discern a threat.

"We need to hurry," he whispered to Kawalsky.

The other man nodded and they began to remove the branches covering the hood. A gun fired from the eastern slope, impacting the side panel only two feet from him. O'Neill's instincts threw him down to the ground, diving for the end of the jeep for cover and around to where Kawalsky had ducked down, behind the front tire.

A male voice shouted from near the shooter's position, "Major O'Neill. Major Kawalsky. You are surrounded. Surrender."

"For something we didn't do?" O'Neill yelled back. "I don't think so!" He and Kawalsky were on the passenger side of the jeep. If they could crawl inside and get the jeep started, maybe they could out-drive this posse. Kawalsky signaled him to drive and O'Neill nodded, grabbing the keys from his pocket.

They carefully opened the door. Another shot. This one hit beyond their heads. O'Neill went in first. As soon as his friend had slid onto the floor, he turned on the ignition, flooring the gas as he peeked his head above the dashboard. Away they went. More shots, but O'Neill didn't slow down to see what had been hit.

Kawalsky took a quick look behind them. "We're leaking gas," he announced. "This ride isn't gonna last long."

"Are they following us, yet?"

"Nope. But we didn't have much gas to begin with."

"I know, I know. I'm thinking."

"Can you do that? Drive and think?"

"Yes, smart ass, I can."

They were heading south. It was in the general direction of Thunder Mountain, but O'Neill had no idea if Kawalsky's idea had any hope of working. They'd heard bad things about Thunder Mountain: it was full of ignorant kids, with their fingers on the triggers of nuclear weapons, or it was run by a megalomaniac with an army of fanatics. Neither sounded very promising. But Chen -- liar though he might be -- had suggested there was more going on there than Valhalla Sector brass wanted their soldiers to know.

But first things first, they had to ditch the jeep, before it ran out of gas.

"Isn't that a jeep ahead of us?" Kawalsky asked.

There was, and it was coming straight at them. It even looked military, similar to theirs. "Ah, shit!"

"Yeah, but I don't think it's from Millhaven. It still has plates."

The two men smiled at each other. "It'll do. Hold on," O'Neill remarked as he cranked the wheel hard to the left, throwing their jeep into a controlled spin that ended with their jeep blocking both lanes. The other jeep's brakes squealed in a frantic attempt to keep from hitting them, skidding to a stop only a few feet off from Kawalsky.

In a quick glance into the other car, Jack saw two young men, neither long out of their teens. Both stared at them with wide eyes.

O'Neill and Kawalsky both jumped out and headed for the other jeep, circling it so quickly the other two barely had time to open their doors. Which just made it that much easier.

"We need to borrow your transport," O'Neill remarked jumping into the front seat, shoving the driver away from the wheel, toward the passenger side. Apparently still shocked, the kid didn't put up a fight.

Kawalsky pulled the passenger to the back cab with him, and O'Neill did a quick one-eighty and headed south.

"That ought to slow them up," O'Neill announced, relieved that they seemed clear. Neither of the majors saw the two young men smirk or the gun resting in the jacket pocket of the one sitting next to Kawalsky.

They drove for thirty minutes, without any sign of being followed, before O'Neill let his foot off the gas. "I think we're in the clear. Thank you for lending us your jeep for a quick getaway. I'm Jack and that's Charlie."

The one in the front answered with remarkable aplomb, "I'm Brian and my friend is Steve. Where are taking us?"

"Where are you boys headed? Might be nice to share the ride for awhile."

"We were headed north," Brian answered, with a touch of understandable sarcasm, since they'd just driven twenty miles south.

"Yeah, well, sorry 'bout that, but you know how it is… " O'Neill shrugged.

"It's all right. I think we pretty much found what we were looking for," Brian continued, and Steve chuckled.

Jack snapped a quizzical glance at his reluctant passengers. Brian smiled at him. Why was he _**smiling**_?

There was a sudden scuffle in the back, a hard slam, and a soft yelp from Kawalsky. O'Neill glanced in his rear-view mirror to see his partner slumped over and Steve holding a gun pointed right at the back of his head.

"Just keep driving, we'll tell you where to go," Brian ordered, suddenly not nearly as mild-looking as O'Neill had thought. He laughed softly. "You want to know the best part of all this, Major O'Neill? We were looking for you."

Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire. But hell, if these kids were from Thunder Mountain and not Millhaven, he was right where he wanted to be anyway. It might not be a knock on the front door, but hell, beggars couldn't be choosers.

\---+---

Markus sat at his desk going over his speech for the eighth time that evening. He had read it for Erin, for Meaghan, then lastly for Daniel, who with puppy-dog eyes, asked yet again if he could accompany Markus to St. Louis.

With a sigh, he set the papers down and ran his fingers through his hair. He would have to leave the next morning, if he was going to make the meeting. Half the cars had already left, both last night and this morning, since their journeys were more circuitous, picking up those who didn't have their own transportation.

He picked up his speech giving it another read through. Daniel had said it sounded inspiring. Erin had said any changes would detract from the honesty of his heart. Meaghan had said it sounded like something Hamilton might have written, and then that she was going to go nuts if she heard it again. Still, Markus wanted it perfect. He couldn't afford a flat appeal. They would tear him apart.

Someone knocked and he glanced up to see Sarah stick her head in his door.

"Markus? Steve and Brian are here. Seems they brought back two prisoners. Do you want them in the brig with Lee?"

Markus did not want the four newcomers to see their new guests, quite yet. So, the brig was out of the question for now. "Have cuffs put on them and I'll meet them in the level three conference room."

NORAD had a small conference room, where it should be possible to talk to these men first. Putting down his speech, yet again, he left the office, but soon Daniel came alongside. How could he lose this ever-vigilant bodyguard without raising suspicions?

"How's the speech coming? You're not rewriting it again?" Daniel asked.

Markus shrugged. "Just a word here and there. Mostly working on delivery and memorizing it. Have you seen Erin?"

"I think she's in the cafeteria with Jeremiah."

Markus turned his steps in that direction, and Daniel dutifully followed. Downstairs, he saw Erin arguing with Jeremiah and Markus knew his intervention would be appreciated, at least until Jeremiah realized what Markus was going to do.

"Erin, just the person I was looking for."

"Something up?" she asked, eyeing Daniel.

"No, I just need your help." He turned to Daniel. "I'm sure you still have plenty to ask Jeremiah about the Outside. Since we'll all be heading out soon, you should be prepared."

"Markus -- " Jeremiah started to complain, but then he caught Markus' deliberate glance at Daniel and subsided. "Sure, no problem," he muttered.

"Thank you," Markus said and touched Jeremiah's shoulder gratefully as he passed.

Out in the corridor, he asked, "What were you two arguing about?"

She hesitated to answer. "Oh, you know Jeremiah, always refusing to do what he's told …"

"Let me guess," he interjected. "He's now part of my bodyguard detail."

She flushed. "So you found out? You're not mad?" she glanced up at him warily, waiting for the explosion.

"No. I don't think it's necessary, and I feel ridiculous with everyone trailing around in my wake. But Jack made it pretty clear that you're all going to keep on doing it, no matter how much I dislike it." He called the elevator and while they waited, in the privacy of the empty corridor, he had to admit softly, "It's not as if I don't remember Danbury, Erin." His right hand touched the spot on his left side where the bullet had cracked a rib and scattered bone fragments, but thankfully not penetrated his lung. "And I know you're doing it because you care. But I can't help feeling like a prisoner in my own home."

She lifted her chin stubbornly. "Better that than dead. And now that you know we can do a better job." She took a deep breath, and he could see the worry in her eyes before she turned her head away. "When Lee radioed from Danbury that you'd been shot, I -- God, I was so scared, Markus, that we would lose you when we'd barely started, and it would be all over."

He was touched by the expression of her faith in him, but was also troubled. If she and everyone else actually believed that, then his death would unravel everything, because no one would think it was possible to continue. He laid his hand on her shoulder. "No one's irreplaceable, Erin. You, and Raymond, and even Andrew understand what Thunder Mountain's destiny could be. Any of you could lead them on."

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Once the doors closed, she shook her head. "I know you have to say it, and you probably even believe it, but it's not true. We share in _**your**_ vision, Markus. And how are we supposed to replace that if you're not around?"

He smiled. "Well, I'm sure you'd think of something." He pushed the button for the third level. "And if I'm dead, I really won't give a damn, so just do what you have to do. Keep our people safe, that's the main thing."

"I know, and I will," she promised, and then frowned, realizing what button he had pushed. "Why are we going up top?"

Thankful to leave behind all this depressing conversation about death and dying, he answered, "We have some guests in the conference room. Lee said there was a Major O'Neill at Valhalla Sector. When our visitors arrived, he called to find out if our Jack is the same one. He's not. So I asked Steve and Brian to bring in this major, which they did, along with the major's friend. I want to question them."

"Don't you think that's a bit dangerous?"

"Yes, it is. However there are two things going for him. First, Lee says this major is, pardon the pun, a major pain-in-the-ass to the higher-ups at Valhalla. He's not well liked there. Second, after talking with ours, I think we might be able to bring this second O'Neill to our side. At least get some current intel from him."

Erin whistled. "Are you going to tell Jack about this?"

"Yes," he answered. "But later. Maybe right before he leaves."

"He's leaving? I didn't know that. When?"

"They need to find a power source in order to 'run the gate.' Sam is checking out possible places."

"And you're gonna just let them go?"

Markus smiled. "Of course not. I'll have Jeremiah and Kurdy escort whoever goes. It's a different world out there. I wouldn't want them to get lost."

Erin understood exactly what Markus wasn't saying. That was what made her an excellent choice for second in command. "So they're not all leaving."

The doors opened and he gestured her out first. "No. At least one is staying here. More an advisor if something else happens with the ring, but also as a hostage."

They started down the hall. It was one of the nicest hallways in the mountain, with painted walls and dropped ceilings to hide the pipes and ducts, since it led to the old NORAD general's office and official visitor's lounge and conference room. But since most of the activity of Thunder Mountain happened downstairs, the nice furnishings of the rooms had long since been stripped out and dispersed. The wood conference table and chairs had been taken for the Advisory Council meeting room, replaced here by a battered Formica-topped metal table and gray chairs, which always looked shabby compared with the carpeted floor and built-in wood credenza.

"And me?" she asked. "Have you changed the plan? Am I still going to St. Louis with you?"

"No. I want you to stay here. I need to know that when the meeting is over, I have a home to come back to. Daniel will drive me."

She didn't look mollified, but Markus had already opened the door.

The two men were cuffed to the chairs, with Brian and Steve on guard beside the door. "Thank you for bringing them so promptly," Markus said to his recon team. "I hope they weren't too much trouble."

Steve grinned. "They ran _**us**_ down. Can you imagine?"

"It's certainly ironic," he agreed. "If you both will wait outside, this shouldn't take long."

After they'd gone, Markus turned to examine the two. The unfamiliar one had dark hair and eyes, and an unfriendly expression. O'Neill was easy to recognize, since he looked almost exactly the same as his twin. "Hello, Major O'Neill."

"You must be The Man," O'Neill responded.

"The Man?" Markus repeated.

"Markus Alexander. The one General Waverly is scared of. Pleased to meet you." The greeting was said with less sarcasm than Markus expected.

"You too. Who's your friend?" Markus asked.

"Told you he was only after you, Jack. Ya could've just dumped me," the other man whined.

O'Neill answered, "Major Charles Kawalsky. No, I'd hate to go into enemy territory without backup."

"This isn't enemy territory," Markus was quick to add.

"You got us handcuffed to the chairs. I call 'em as I see 'em and this makes us your prisoners." He rattled the cuffs.

"True," Markus agreed pleasantly. "But since Valhalla Sector's already tried to kill me, I thought a little caution was in order."

O'Neill narrowed his eyes. "So why me? You must know that Valhalla has a large contingent at Millhaven, why did you decide that you wanted me?"

"We need some information."

"So it was all a ruse. Saying that Lee Chen had been compromised by me."

Markus stiffened. "Excuse me? Are you saying that Valhalla thinks _**you**_ told us he was a spy?" He did nothing to hide his surprise. This confirmed there was another active agent in the Mountain. He turned and looked at Erin. Her worried eyes spoke the same.

If anything O'Neill's eyes narrowed further. "It's obvious I didn't. I've never been here before. So, how would such a story come about?"

Markus couldn't forget that this wasn't the Colonel O'Neill who was their current guest. Both were dangerous, but this one had no reason to like him. Markus gingerly took a seat at the big table. Erin stayed standing behind his chair.

"It's a puzzle," Markus agreed. "Lee was found to have communication devices that could only contact the outside. We calculated it was Valhalla. Your name came up during his interrogation." He let O'Neill and Kawalsky chew on that for a moment. It answered the question of why O'Neill, but concealed the context. Let him believe that Lee had fingered him as possibly sympathetic to Thunder Mountain.

After letting the silence linger, he folded his hands on the table in front of him. "Can you explain to me why Valhalla considers us their enemy? We should be working together to rebuild this country, yet they seem bent on destroying it."

"Ain't that the truth. It's called the military way. Since you're not part of the chain of command, you must be one that needs to be commanded," he answered flippantly.

"You believe that?" Markus challenged.

O'Neill and Kawalsky exchanged a glance. O'Neill answered, "I'm not taught to believe anything outside my orders."

"Good answer," Erin mocked.

Markus looked steadily at O'Neill. There must be something of the colonel in there. He was an honorable man. The Big Death could not have totally destroyed that honor. He hoped. O'Neill fidgeted in his chair.

Markus continued, "Why did Lee want to see you in Millhaven?"

"Now that is a really good question," O'Neill sat straighter in his chair. "I've been wondering the same thing. First he meets with us, then he sends us on a wild goose chase to grab a supposed nuclear bomb, but the place blew up months ago. And it wasn't a nuke, though I guess he might not have known that. Who in their right mind would leave nukes in the hands of children?"

Markus glanced down at his own hands. Who indeed? Who had left nuclear weapons in his hands? He suspected it had been O'Neill's commanders, and Markus had no intention of giving them back. "Children grow up. We're adults now." Markus processed what O'Neill was really implying and looked up again, incredulous. "Are you telling me the only reason the military has been taking over every weapons base between here and Virginia is to keep them out of the hands of children? Isn't that an over simplification?"

O'Neill's cuffs rattled against the chair as he tried to gesture. "Of course we want the nuclear arsenal in our hands. It only makes sense. I can't help it if you believe it's a direct threat against you."

Markus folded his arms, unwilling to let that self-serving justification go unchallenged. "Didn't you say that General Waverly is afraid of me? Doesn't it stand to reason that if one has possession of armament, one would use it against a believed threat? Am I a threat to Valhalla?" he asked pointedly.

O'Neill's eyes widened. "We're not gonna bomb Cheyenne Mountain. Whatever gave you --" he trailed off. "Well, okay, I admit, maybe Waverly would." He didn't look comfortable with the idea. Maybe it was because he was now inside the mountain.

"Do you have any idea what I stand for?" Markus asked, curious to see what O'Neill would say.

"How the hell should I know. You're a kid who's grown up in his father's house. You have his tools and tech, but no idea how to use it."

Markus leaned back in his chair and glanced pointedly at the overhead lights. "What makes you so sure I don't know how to use it? I've run it for fifteen years. We still have electricity, food, running water, clothes, and gas. We all have fulfilled lives. Can you say the same?"

Neither of his guests answered. But that was fine. Markus thought he had gotten his point across.

"We know what we're doing," Markus told him. "The whole point of Thunder Mountain is to bring together the towns and villages into a bigger community. To restart trade and communication between people who have been isolated. We shouldn't be wasting our time or resources on petty wars. Our energy should be spent rebuilding our country, better than it was. And martial law is _**not**_ acceptable."

O'Neill turned his head away. "You're never going to convince the leaders at Valhalla. They still have dreams of controlling everyone, with the Big Death virus."

"The virus? How?" Markus asked, probing what O'Neill knew and how it meshed with Lee's story.

"They've been working on a vaccine and cure since the Big Death. And I know they've got samples of the virus still hanging around. If they get both a vaccine and a cure, they can do whatever the hell they want, since no one can stop them."

He noticed that O'Neill was now speaking about Valhalla Sector as "they", not as "we". It was a revealing amount of linguistic distance he was putting between himself and the commanders. But the confirmation of Valhalla's intentions was discouraging. He had been holding on to some hope that Lee had been exaggerating the depth of the corruption they faced. But it was true. "Do you agree with them?"

"Hell no!" O'Neill exclaimed, and Kawalsky shook his head in vigorous agreement. "It's a damn miracle that the human race is here at all, and those idiots are inviting total extinction for nothing better than their own glory. One of their scientists figured it out a long time ago, but he won't tell them. They torture him regularly, to see if he'll break. But we don't play their games. That's gotten us no promotions, and a career going nowhere. But I'm not changing my mind. I'll kill the good doctor myself before I'd let Waverly and that cold-fish Simmons get their hands on the vaccine."

Markus believed him. The question had certainly seemed to touch a nerve. He wondered how many other rank-and-file soldiers of Valhalla Sector felt the same. Which left Jeremiah and his father in a difficult position.

Sharp dark eyes rested on his face. "I answered your questions," O'Neill said. "Now answer one of mine. If it comes to war, can you defeat Valhalla Sector?"

He heard Erin's sharp breath behind him, but kept his gaze steady on O'Neill. The question was only a surprise for how soon O'Neill had asked it. "Can I? Yes. But the real question is -- can I defeat them at a cost I can live with? That, I don't know. I don't want to try to build a civilization on a foundation of blood. I would rather find another way. But if they force me to, Thunder Mountain will fight."

O'Neill nodded. Both he and Kawalsky had thoughtful, somewhat surprised, expressions. Markus hoped that meant they were thinking about what he said.

Markus glanced at his watch, noting that it was getting late. He had spent more time here than he'd meant to. There was still a lot to do before he left in the morning, and he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. "I can't let you go until after the meeting."

"Oh yeah, the famous St. Louis get-together. Heard a bit about it."

"What did you hear?" Markus asked curiously, trying not to reveal how important the answer was.

"Only that it's happening." He grimaced. "I'm not privy to inside info if that's what you're looking for."

Markus wasn't exactly sure _**what**_ he was looking for in this mirror-image O'Neill, just that he knew he had an opportunity and he had better seize it while he could. He stood, preparing to leave. "For now you have two choices: a cell next to Lee's with all the comforts of home. Or I'll have someone fly you to California, without any means of contacting your superiors."

"Fly?" Kawalsky blurted in surprise.

Markus smiled, not very nicely. "I control all the military assets left in Colorado Springs, Major Kawalsky. And I know how to use them."

Markus watched carefully as the two men made up their minds. If they wanted to leave, then an attack on the Mountain was eminent. They wouldn't want to get caught in the crossfire. If they chose to stay, then--

O'Neill leaned back in his chair, as casually as he could with the cuffs on. "We'll take the cozy cell. I'm tired, could use some R&amp;R. Right, Kawalsky?"

"Whatever you say. Personally I'd rather go to California and look for a good trout stream."

"You like fishing?" Markus asked. "I know of a great place just a few miles from here. Maybe we'll go when I get back."

O'Neill nodded. "Yeah. Maybe."

Outside the room, Markus gave Brian and Steve instructions to take the prisoners to holding. After they'd gone back into the room, Erin turned to him, amused. "Since when do you know anything about fishing?"

He shrugged. "You put a worm on a hook and drop it in the water. How hard could it be?"

She let that pass with just a roll of her eyes. He pretended not to see. Halfway back to the elevator, she stopped. He stopped too, knowing what was bothering her and what she was going to say.

She said it anyway. "You can't go to St. Louis, Markus." When she didn't see immediate agreement, she looked in his face, her blue eyes anxious, and tucked her hands around her as if she felt a chill. "We've got another spy. Valhalla knows. If they know where and when, they're going to be there. We have to cancel -- and you _**can't**_ go."

"We can't cancel," he said. He had considered it briefly, but there was just no way. "It's too late. All the leaders are already on the way. And most are out of contact."

"You can call Nathan and cancel. He can turn people away as they arrive."

"No. I'm not going to do that. We would never get any of these people on board again, Erin. You know it as well as I do. The same thing goes for not going myself. No one would ever trust me again, if I'm not there. _**Especially**_ if it gets attacked, they'll think I set them up."

She shook her head, several times, a hard glint in her gaze. "So, what then? You're going to go get yourself killed to prove -- what? Tell me exactly what this is going to prove, Markus," she demanded.

"I'm not going to get killed," he said, trying to reassure her. "Yes, it's a risk, I know that. But it's not _**that**_ big a risk, not really. Why would Valhalla Sector attack us and prove me right? They must realize any action like that would simply unite the opposition that much faster."

"Markus, these are people who are torturing Jeremiah's father for the secrets of the Big Death! Does that sound like they're reasonable people to you?" she exclaimed in frustration, then heaved a breath and lowered her voice, without losing any of her agitation. "Not everybody is as logical as you are. They're not as smart. You can't expect them to do what you would do, because they won't. You heard him -- he couldn't even say that Valhalla Sector wouldn't try to _**nuke**_ us. Do you seriously think they're not going to take down St. Louis?"

"If they know about it. If they can plan an attack on short notice. If they even care," he enumerated on his fingers. "I'm far more worried about them coming here while we've got so many of our people outside. It only takes one person to open the doors, and then this place isn't a bunker anymore, but a rat trap. And we know there's one. At least."

She glared at him, for a moment unable to speak, then her arms unfolded and she slapped the wall behind her. "You know I hate it when you do this, right?" she grumbled.

"Do what?"

"Make sense," she muttered, then in a slightly more reasonable tone, said, "All right, I'll stay here and bake cookies while you…" she stuck a finger abruptly into his chest, "will keep your head down and not get killed. Do you understand me?"

He rocked backward from the force of her insistent prodding. "Yes, yes, okay."

"Because if you make me come after you and save your ass, I will be _**very**_ annoyed," she warned.

He valiantly attempted to repress his grin, knowing she was genuinely concerned, but he just couldn't help it. "Suddenly I believe you're an Air Force major in another reality." And he didn't try to escape the hand that swatted his shoulder, because he knew he deserved it.

"Jerk." Then her expression shifted back to her somber "business" face. "All right, what's the plan? I know you have one, so let's hear it."

He cast a wary eye on the walls, remembering how Jack had mentioned that there were microphones. He was going to have to strip them all out eventually. But until then, he knew that his office was clean, since he had spent three hours last night with the operations manual, tracing and removing each one. He yawned at the mere thought of tonight's project, rewriting code for the comm system. But it had to be done before he left, since no one else could do it. There was never enough time.

"Come on, let's go back down and I'll tell you all about it."

\---+---

Malek waited until most of the people had settled to their rooms for the night. He slipped out of the lab and went to see how Devon was doing. While it wasn't against the rules for him to associate with the other researcher, Colonel Simmons would instantly want to know if he had extracted any useful information about the virus. Malek could hardly tell him the truth, that he was concerned about Devon's health, but he also didn't want to give the hierarchy any excuse to question his own loyalty. So he had to be quick and careful.

Libby was there, trying to coax Devon into drinking some broth. The man looked terrible. "Can he talk?" Malek asked quietly.

"Yes. And I'm not deaf either," Devon interjected, sounding annoyed.

Malek sat down at the edge of the bed. "I want to discuss something I learned from General Waverly yesterday. Have you heard about this meeting in St. Louis? The leader from Thunder Mountain, a man named Markus Alexander, is supposed to be leading a rebellion against Valhalla. Can this be true?" He waited.

Devon exchanged looks with Libby that told Malek that they knew quite a bit about the meeting. How much would they share? "I will not betray your confidence," he added.

"Markus Alexander is not about conquest," Devon stated hesitantly. "The meeting he's organizing is to unite the country, to try and get people to work together." Devon shifted on the bed, obviously in pain, but eager to share his perceptions.

Feeling guilty that he had forgotten, Malek took out the little white pills he had created using Tok'ra technology. They were able to alleviate the pain, but left the mind lucid. Libby handed Devon a glass and he took the medication.

"Unite as in making a new country?" Malek asked, prodding for more information.

Devon nodded. "He wants to draft a new constitution. Needless to say, Waverly sees this as a direct threat to his authority and the government in place here."

Malek nodded in understanding. "Who's to lead this new governmental body? Markus?"

"Don't know, maybe Markus in the beginning. Lee says he'll probably draft a council, hold elections, and so on. That's basically what he's done at Thunder Mountain."

Malek pondered this. It was a far more favorable portrait than the one Waverly painted, and he wondered how much was true. "Lee told you this? I thought the two of you had a falling out."

"Staged," Devon chuckled a little, choking in pain. "Sort of. I wasn't happy that he wanted to play sycophant to Waverly. Turns out he wanted out of here. He didn't care where, just out. Markus gave him a purpose."

Malek regretted that he hadn't known of this as well.

"What was your news?" Devon asked. "Is there something else?"

"After your session," Malek tried not to say torture, "General Waverly and Colonel Simmons received a report that Lee's undercover position has been compromised by Major O'Neill. There was also a reference made to the meeting, which I knew little about, but it made no sense that O'Neill would be in contact with Thunder Mountain."

"You're right, it doesn't make any sense. Lee hasn't tried to contact me, so the fact that he's been found out could be true. What about Major Kawalsky? Is he involved?"

"His name was not mentioned."

"Strange that O'Neill could be involved on the sly with Thunder Mountain and not Kawalsky, and Lee not saying anything. I need to think about it."

Malek recognized the dismissal. Libby must have also, since she gathered the bowl and spoon and walked with Malek to the door.

"Gordon, let us know also if you hear more information," she asked.

Malek agreed and retired to his own room.

\---+---

Jack bolted awake, gasping for breath. His heart was pounding so frantically, for a second he thought he must be having a heart attack. His skin was tingling, as if he'd stuck his finger in an electrical outlet.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, trying to get his brain working, and then looked around. The room was dimly lit by the green exit sign over the door and the phosphorescent paint someone had put in a stripe at the top of the ceiling. Everything looked fine, unchanged from when he'd thrown himself down to sleep on his cot.

In the opposite cot, Daniel stirred. "Jack? Is something wrong?" he asked, when he saw Jack sitting up.

"I don't know," he admitted, as he probably wouldn't have if it hadn't been pretty dark. "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?" Daniel asked.

He shrugged and looked away, now feeling embarrassed. "Must have been just a dream," he muttered. "Sorry."

"No problem," Daniel yawned and pulled the blanket up. "'Night, Jack."

Very soon it was quiet, except for Daniel's light snore that he always had the first twenty minutes of sleep, and the whisper of the air circulation system.

Jack didn't bother to lie back on his cot. He knew he was too awake to sleep any time soon. He glanced at his watch to find it was just after two in the morning. Perfect.

He pulled up his legs, tapping his fingers on his knees for about half a minute until that got boring. He wanted to move, but he didn't want to wake Daniel, so he was somewhat limited in his options. God, was there anything worse than being wide awake in the middle of the night?

He could put the time to good use, and actually think. Markus had said last night that he didn't care who went looking for Seth, but only two of them would go and they would go with Jeremiah and Kurdy as escorts. One would stay at Thunder Mountain, and the fourth person would go with him to St. Louis, and that fourth person had to be Sam or Daniel. Rather to his team's surprise, Jack hadn't argued the arrangement. One look in those determined brown eyes and he'd known the decision was not negotiable. In fact he was lucky he was being given any choice at all.

But he wondered how much choice he had really. Carter had to go with him to find Seth, since he needed both her technical expertise and her ability to use Goa'uld tech. Daniel _**wanted**_ to go to St. Louis anyway. Markus had "suggested" that Jack stay behind, remarking that his appearance might draw unwanted attention. Jack had almost told him that Teal'c was over one hundred years old, but that would get into the whole Jaffa thing and Jack didn't want to go there. In any case, being told he was too old to do something made him want to go do it anyway, especially in this place where they seemed to think that old people were either evil or frail.

So he had said that Daniel would go with Markus, and he and Carter would go looking for Seth, while Teal'c stayed at Thunder Mountain. Markus had nodded, unsurprised by his decision.

Going off to confront a Goa'uld with Carter and two guys he didn't really know, and were untrained besides, was not his idea of a well-planned mission. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and he couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, and all other similar clichés, which meant he was going in without intel and proper backup. The four of them would be on their own.

Suddenly he had the oddest sensation that he was falling. Even though he could feel the blankets and bunk beneath him, he felt as if he could fall right through them. He seized the frame of the bed beneath him and held on tightly. His heart started pounding again, throbbing fast and hard, and he couldn't breathe.

"Daniel!" It came out as a croak.

His bones seemed to prickle, and his skin tingled with a powerful electrical charge. And then it got really weird. There were colors, and sounds, and the sensation of movement, and yet it was all very, very quiet and dark…

When he came back to himself, he was lying on his back, looking up into Daniel's very worried face. "Jack?"

Jack tried to slow his racing heart with deep breaths, and raised a hand to rub his head where an intense headache was rising. "What the hell was that? What's wrong with me?"

"I know what it was," Daniel answered, unexpectedly. "It looked just the same as when Sam -- Doctor Carter -- had that, um, attack of entropic cascade failure in the infirmary."

"Really?" Jack looked up at him, with a curious frown, and waved his hand. "Was it freaky? Sort of glowy?"

Daniel nodded. His eyes looked dark and very worried in the dim lighting. "Jack, you must have a double here. I'm going to go get Sam and Teal'c -- be right back." He started off, and then paused at the door. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Go," Jack waved him off. When Daniel was out the door, Jack let out a groan and struggled to sit up. He rubbed his face.

Wasn't this peachy. He remembered all too well what the Carters had said back then. The Carter who didn't belong would have died if she didn't get back to her reality. Which was bad news for him, since he currently had no way to get _**out**_ of this reality. No working Stargate, no trips to the planet with the quantum mirror, no spaceship...

_**Maybe**_ a Goa'uld. And didn't it suck that he really needed to find a Goa'uld?


	8. Chapter 8

**March 19**

The door flew open. "Colonel?" Carter raced inside, in a tank top, her BDU pants, and socks. She had a rather funny case of bed-head, with her hair stuck up like some sort of peacock's tail around her head. "Daniel said -- "

He held up a hand to steady her as she skidded to a stop beside the bed, slipping on her socks. "Carter, it wasn't so bad. I feel fine now." Okay, that was stretching the truth, since the little gnomes in his brain were still renovating, but the bad part was over.

"But if it was entropic cascade failure, that means you -- a different you -- is alive in this reality, and can't be far away," she realized. "We have to tell Markus. Right now."

He stared at her, wondering if it was just the hour but he really didn't see the connection. "Carter, for crying out loud, it's three in the morning. I think this can wait until later."

"No, sir," she disagreed. "I don't think so. If your double is close enough that you're feeling the effects, we have to get you away. That's the only way to lengthen your time. The entropy will decrease the farther away from him you are."

He nodded. That made sense. And it really did, that was the scary part. Once upon a time he wouldn't have understood any of this.

"Besides," she added, "Markus should know that your double is close by. That could mean Valhalla Sector is near, too."

He couldn't argue with her logic. If his double really was alive, then **somehow** he had evaded the virus. Thinking that it was some natural immunity and he just happened to be close to Thunder Mountain sounded like wishful thinking. Far more likely that the other O'Neill was still in the military and part of Valhalla Sector.

"All right," he agreed. "But make sure you tell him it wasn't my idea to wake him up," he admonished as she started on the way out. "Oh, and Carter?" she glanced back over her shoulder. He tapped his head once. "Comb your hair, would you?"

She turned pink and her hand reflexively went to her hair. "Yes, sir," she answered properly and dashed away.

\---+---

Two minutes later, looking far more respectable, Sam called the elevator and realized she didn't know where Markus' quarters were. So she went down to his office in the hopes that either he might be there, or someone would be in the commissary for her to ask. His office door was open, but the room was dark and empty.

But below she had success. As she had recommended, the gate was now under guard. The tables and hydroponics had been put away or pushed to the sides of the room, leaving just one table. Four people, three men and one woman, were sitting there, playing Monopoly. Pistols and rifles sat within reach on the benches beside them.

"Rent is eight hundred, Gabriel," the woman announced with glee as Sam stepped into the room. "So sorry."

"Excuse me," Sam approached the table. "I don't think we've met. I'm Sam -- I'm one of the ones that came through that thing," she nodded toward the gate. "It's extremely urgent that I talk to Markus. Do you know where I can find him?"

The one addressed as Gabriel stood up. He was young, with black hair worn a bit shaggy and dark eyes that had seen too much, like all of them in this place. "We know who you are. Markus is in his room."

She nodded and smiled anxiously. "Yes, I figured as much. But I don't know where that is."

"Can't it wait?" Gabriel asked. "I know he left his office only about two hours ago. I'd rather not disturb him."

"I wouldn't ask, except it really is an emergency. Colonel O'Neill -- one of my companions -- is sick," she explained. "It's an illness relating to the ring."

Gabriel shared a look with his friends. They all nodded, so he turned back. "I'll go tell him you need to talk to him. If you'd wait in his office?"

Sam thanked them all and retreated upstairs. The wait seemed interminable.

She stood in front of the window, looking at the Stargate. With all the different stargates she had seen, this was the first she could remember that was part of a decorative water fountain. It seemed rather appropriate, considering that the open gate looked like water.

Staring at it, she realized how difficult it was going to be to get this Stargate to function. About the only thing it had in common with the SGC gate was that it was in approximately the same place. This one had no connections to a power supply, or the base mainframe. There were no programs to run it in the computer, even if it got connected.

She could do all those things, and there were people to help. But if the colonel was going to deteriorate as quickly as the other Carter had, she didn't have that kind of time. Her only hope was to take him away from his double and try to slow the increased entropy from building up in his cells. Or, alternatively, find his double and kill him, she realized. It was a dark option, but it was an option.

Shaking her head at the late-night nature of her thoughts, she went back to the bookshelf and her interrupted examination of the bottom shelf. It was quite a collection of physics and mathematics works, all advanced for the mid-80's. Tucked between a book on game theory and a physical chemistry textbook was a slender green paper book, which Sam immediately recognized as the American Theoretical Physics Journal. Wondering why this single copy was here, she slipped it off the shelf into her lap.

It was like new, only yellowed with age. Luckily Sam didn't have to open it, since the contents were printed on the cover. The fifth article was about a mathematical model for quark interactions from the fall 1989 issue. Listed as the third author was the name: M. Alexander. Her memory jarred, she could now remember several other, more recent articles written by the same person. Markus. She kicked herself for not putting it together before.

Quick footsteps in the corridor brought her attention back to the present with a guilty start. She put the journal back on the shelf and stood up. Erin entered with Gabriel hovering behind her in the corridor.

"Thanks, Gabriel," Erin said and shut the door. "So, Sam, what's wrong?" she asked, folding her arms. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and she was wearing a black T-shirt and baggy olive BDU pants, looking like her military counterpart.

Sam considered asking to talk to Markus again, but dropped that idea with one look at the protective stance of the other woman. "I told Gabriel -- the colonel's sick. It's sort of hard to explain…" she thought about the simplest way to get the point across. "Basically, two identical objects can't exist in the same universe. The one that doesn't belong gets rejected. Colonel O'Neill's double must still be alive -- and he can't be too far away. I wanted to warn Markus that Valhalla Sector, since they're the only old people I've heard of, might be close. And second, we need to take the colonel out of here right away, and as far as we can. Distance between him and his double is all that will stop him from … well … dying. At least until we can get him home."

Erin nodded slowly and wandered over to the window to glance out at the Stargate. "I see," she said. "I'll go find Markus and tell him. We'll meet you back at your rooms. Get your gear together."

Sam nodded and went out.

\---+---

Erin shook her head, ruefully amazed. She'd known bringing Major O'Neill inside was going to bite them in the ass, but she could never have guessed it would come from this direction. Markus was going to love this.

Gabriel had already told her that he wasn't in his room, and he wasn't here. The night before he was going to leave, there was really only one other place he could be.

She passed through the doors into the locked-down, restricted section. It was more silent here, with only the constant drone of the air circulation system and the buzzing of the florescent lights indicating there was anyone here. Even the lighting was turned down, with only one in four bulbs lit, leaving large pools of shadow in between.

Imputing the code on the keypad, she entered the quarantine lab, opening the door as quietly as she could. All the lights were off, except the emergency lights, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

But she saw that she had been right. Markus was there, slumped forward in the gray vinyl chair, his head down on the table in front of him. Meaghan was asleep in the armchair she'd brought nearby, her hand against the window so that it would have touched his if there were no glass in the way.

For a moment, Erin just watched them. She wondered how she could possibly envy them, when she knew how hopeless it was. Meaghan could never come out of there, without risking not just Markus' life, but everyone else's. And Markus would never let her go. He had made that clear silently, by refusing everyone else, even though it might have made his job easier not to be thought of as strange. But to Erin's knowledge he had been completely faithful for fifteen years to a woman he would never be able to touch.

It was odd and yet beautiful. And if, in her secret heart, she wished things were different -- well, she wished for a lot of things that she wasn't going to have.

She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and walked forward. Softly she called, "Markus?" She shook his shoulder. "Markus, I'm sorry, but you need to wake up."

He groaned, shifted uncomfortably, and raised his head. "Oh, Christ ..." One hand went to his neck to rub. "I think my head's gonna fall off… What time is it?"

"Little after three," Erin answered.

He straightened painfully. "Ow. I don't think I can move."

Meaghan's teasing voice came through the glass and the speaker. "I told you so. Didn't I tell you to go to bed?"

"You did," he agreed sleepily, stretching out the kinks in his back and neck. "I just wanted to put my head down for a minute."

Meaghan snorted. "I knocked on the glass for five minutes, Markus. You were out cold." Then she shifted her attention. "Not that I'm not grateful that you've come, Erin, not the least so you can take that idiot back to his far more comfortable bed. But you look like something's wrong."

Markus blinked, yawned again, and alertness filtered back into his face when he raised his eyes to look at her. "Erin? What is it?"

His yawn made her give a yawn of her own, before she could answer. "Sam was looking for you. Jack's sick. It turns out there's some sort of problem with him being so close to the other Jack. She said that the universe rejects the one that doesn't belong. They don't know that Major Jack is in the mountain, but they know he's close by." She smiled a little, tasting the irony. "She thought to warn us, thinking that it was a sign that Valhalla Sector might be coming." Then the smile vanished. "She said that if they don't put distance between them, Jack -- our Jack -- is going to die."

He stood up, all trace of discomfort gone, replaced by alarm. "Oh shit. That didn't occur to me. They **must** be from different quantum realities. She's right -- the increased entropy in the system when they're close together could cause degradation at the molecular level. Damn, why didn't I **think**!" He slapped his hand on the table, angry at himself. "Stupid. I have to avoid mistakes like that."

Erin stared at him. She thought she understood what all the individual words meant, but put together she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Markus," Meaghan intervened, approaching the glass. "You can't expect to predict everything when it comes to four strangers using alien technology who are coming from a different universe. Cut yourself some slack, and go fix it." She had a soft way of speaking, but was very firm. "All right?"

"Right," he agreed and found a smile for her. "I've got to go. I don't think I'll be able to come back before I leave for St. Louis tomorrow. Later this morning, I mean," he realized, with a grimace.

"I know. Good luck at the meeting. Don't do anything foolishly brave," she ordered him. "Just come back."

"I will," he promised. He put two fingers to his lips and then blew her a kiss, which she pretended to snatch out of the air. "I'll see you soon, Meaghan. Not more than two weeks, I hope."

She just nodded and smiled, but her heart was in her eyes as she watched him turn to leave. It made Erin want to do something for them.

"If you like," Erin had to clear her throat. "I could come visit while he's gone," she offered tentatively, uncertain how it might be received. Ever since she had found out about Meaghan, she had only come with Markus twice and never on her own. She always felt awkward around the older woman. But she wanted to reach out. "If you don't mind company."

Meaghan smiled with what seemed to be genuine pleasure. "Not at all. I would **love** company, Erin. You're welcome, anytime."

"That's great," Markus nodded. He seemed pleased that the two women he was close to might become friends. "We should probably go." He held the door for Erin, and glanced back once. He very softly shut the door behind him and ensured it was locked.

Then he asked in a light voice, that didn't hide as much as he thought it did, "What do you say we stop for coffee first? It's just wrong being up at three in the morning."

"Coffee sounds good," she agreed.

\---+---

Jeremiah hated being wakened. But if he had to be woken from sound sleep, he wanted it to be an emergency, to make it seem a little more worthwhile.

It also helped when the person waking him up was Erin. He rolled over to look down at her from the top bunk. "What is it?" He could feel the bottom bunk shift as well when Kurdy turned toward her.

She smiled tiredly. "There's a problem. Our guests have to leave. Right now. You two are going to go with them as guides."

"We're going where?" Jeremiah asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know exactly. Someplace in Kansas. It's a long story which you'll have plenty of time to hear on the trip. I'm sorry for the short notice, but it's an emergency. Pack up your gear and meet in the garage in twenty."

She was out the door, before Jeremiah was coherent enough to ask another question.

"Did I hear her right?" Kurdy swung out of bed and stood, eye to eye with his friend. "Did she just say that we're being sent outside right now? With the old people?"

"Yeah. That's what I heard, too. Figures. We just get settled in, and we've gotta go again." Jeremiah dropped to the floor and opened his footlocker to start dragging the stuff out that he needed for a trip.

"But if we're going with the old people, who's going with Markus?" Kurdy asked. "I know Erin's staying here, and I haven't heard he's taking anyone else to St. Louis."

"Ours is not to reason why, man," Jeremiah said, throwing an extra shirt, pair of socks, toothbrush, blanket, and mending kit into his bag. "I'm sure it's all arranged -- just nobody's bothered to tell us." He grabbed his socks and sat on the only chair to start putting on his boots.

"Well, I'm gonna ask," Kurdy said. He started putting his bag together too, with a bothered expression on his face. "Markus can't go alone. That's asking for trouble."

Jeremiah thought it was kind of ironic -- here was the guy who'd wanted to sell the Thunder Mountain jeep instead of taking it back when they'd first met, but now he'd become such a believer that he worried Markus might be going to this big meeting without protection.

Not that it didn't concern Jeremiah, too. Now that Markus knew about the whole guarding thing, he might go on his own, just to prove it wasn't necessary. Markus could be stubborn that way. Worse, at least in Jeremiah's opinion, Markus **thought** he understood the world outside the mountain, but he hadn't spent much time out there. A lack of experience might kill him, even without Valhalla Sector's bad guys in the mix.

"Yeah," Jeremiah said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "We'll find out what the plans are. Come on, let's go."

\---+---

Sam went back to the colonel and Daniel's room, distracted by what she had found. But when she knocked once in warning and opened the door, all her worry returned in a rush. She found O'Neill standing, doing up the buttons of his BDU jacket. Daniel, fully dressed, was hovering in the background, watching, and Teal'c stood beside the door, in his T-shirt and sweatpants, looking very casual except for the concern in his dark eyes.

She asked anxiously, "Sir, how are you? Any more episodes?"

"Nope. I feel fine." He tugged on the hem once to straighten the jacket and then sat to start tying his boots. "Any luck finding the big cheese?"

"I talked to Erin. She was going to go get him, but she said we should pack up. I see you're already ahead of her," she observed.

"No sense waiting around," he half-shrugged.

Teal'c said, in a tone that suggested he had said the same before, "You may need further assistance, O'Neill. I should accompany you to search for Seth."

"No," O'Neill shook his head. "The farther away I am from the other me -- and can I just say that all these different versions of me running around is really disturbing -- I should be fine. Right, Carter?"

"Sir, this is still very theoretical," she corrected reluctantly. "It's also possible once the excess entropy builds up through proximity that it may not dissipate again. I don't **believe** you'll get any worse, but you might not get better either."

"Well, we'll deal with that if we have to. We stick to the plan." He finished tying his boots with a flourish. "There. All ready. Carter, are you set?"

"I never unpacked," she said. "I'm ready." She hesitated, wondering if she should tell them what she'd found out. She decided they ought to know. "While we wait, I found out something earlier, about Markus. I guess it's not really relevant, but I know who he was in our reality."

"Really, Sam?" Daniel asked curiously. "What did you find?"

"I found a journal article in his office dating from '89. Markus was one of the authors."

O'Neill blinked and frowned in confusion. "How can that be? Wouldn't he have been, like, twelve?"

"More like fifteen," she said with a brief smile. She noticed she had the rest of her team's complete attention. It was a nice change. "He was a prodigy. One of the National Scholars."

Daniel's mouth dropped open. He understood what that meant, and explained for the colonel and Teal'c. "It's a program pairing gifted high schoolers with university faculty for special research opportunities. It's very selective."

Sam had been going through her rebellious phase at the time and refused to apply, believing her father's connections would interfere in the process. But Daniel was right -- selection was extremely competitive. She went on, "There's something else. Back when I was still at the Pentagon, we were considering recruiting him to the program. I read his research and was very excited at the prospect of working with him. There was one--"

O'Neill interrupted, "Carter. He obviously didn't join up. So what happened?"

"He died," she replied abruptly.

Her answer was not what any of them had expected. She folded her arms and continued, "Not long after we formed SG-1, maybe around the time we went to Cimmeria, the announcement went out that he'd been killed. One of his students was found dead in his apartment, and Markus ran his car off a cliff into the Pacific. Police called it a suicide." She added deliberately, "I'm not so sure anymore."

She saw the instant that understanding dawned in the colonel's face. O'Neill might not understand much physics, but he had a fine grasp of dirty politics. The realization was replaced by a disgusted snarl, "Maybourne the Weasel strikes again."

She nodded. "Yes, sir. I suspect NID recruited, or kidnapped, Markus into Area 51. I can guess what they had him doing, too. Rodney admitted to me he wasn't the original designer of their wormhole computer model. I think it was Markus. Then they took him off-world through the Antarctica gate. What if he escaped them and ended up with the Tok'ra?"

"That would explain a lot," O'Neill nodded thoughtfully. "Including how damn **suspicious** they were when we first met them."

"But I don't understand why he wouldn't talk to you guys," Daniel said. "If that's true, wouldn't he want to tell you what happened?"

Sam shook her head, but Teal'c answered first, "Would he understand the difference between the unauthorized actions of the NID and the SGC?"

"Probably not," Sam agreed. "He wouldn't know who he could trust. He might have thought we could force him back somehow." She very carefully didn't look at O'Neill, but she was also sure that the colonel's hostility to the Tok'ra had discouraged any confidences. Malek had borne the brunt of O'Neill's anger toward Kanan, and it was really no wonder that Markus hadn't spoken a word at the Alpha Site or on Pangar. In his shoes, she wouldn't have either.

O'Neill got to his feet, looking uncomfortable, and she suspected he was thinking something similar. "Well, this is all very interesting, Carter, but aside from telling me that Markus is smart, which, sorry, isn't all that much of a shock, what does it mean to us, right now?"

She shrugged. "Not much, I guess. Although he should understand why you have to leave."

There were two sharp raps outside and then the door swung open. Markus entered into a silent room. He looked from one to another, and frowned as he sipped from the coffee cup in his hand. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, but more wrinkled, and Sam wondered if he'd slept. His face looked pale, but that could just have been the bluish florescents. All of SG-1 stared at him.

"Good morning, Markus," he said in an exaggerated, courteous voice when still no one spoke, and then carried on the rest of the conversation himself. "Good morning. Sorry for waking you. Oh, that's all right, I was in the middle of a very odd dream about talking hippos, so it was probably just as well. Erin mentioned there was some emergency?"

He drank his coffee and showed every sign of waiting until someone said something.

Sam glanced at O'Neill, who appeared to be stuck on the talking hippos, so she started, "Yes, I am sorry for waking you, but it was urgent. The colonel's experienced what we call entropic cascade failure, which is -- "

Markus nodded impatiently and interrupted, "Yes, the build-up of entropy between identical objects with different quantum signatures, that's obvious. What I don't know is whether the local O'Neill will be equally affected by Jack's presence."

Relieved that he understood, and pleased that she'd been right, she shook her head once. "I can tell you from personal experience that the local one, as you say, experiences nothing," Sam said. "The one who doesn't belong --"

Jack raised a hand. "That would be me. It feels extremely weird, and it **looks** especially bizarre. It gets worse."

Markus nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I'm sure it does. Eventually the molecular bonds will fail, as all the quarks orient themselves to their new quantum universe."

O'Neill looked to Sam in alarm, only a little exaggerated for effect. "You didn't tell me I was going to blow up, Carter."

"You won't blow up, sir," she said reassuringly. "Just… dissolve."

"**So** not helping," O'Neill grumbled.

"But not if we get Jack out of here, right?" Daniel asked. "Far away from his double."

Markus set his empty coffee cup on the small corner table and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Yes, about that, I'm sorry. If I'd thought it through I would've known better, but unfortunately, I brought Major O'Neill here."

That got everyone's attention. Even Sam stared. It was one thing to **theorize** that the colonel had a double, quite another to hear that he not only existed, but was inside the mountain.

Markus smiled faintly. "Major O'Neill is alive, working for Valhalla Sector. I had one of my recon teams capture him and bring him back for questioning. Apparently his way of doing things has won him little approval from his superiors."

"Imagine that," Daniel muttered, and O'Neill elbowed him.

"But why did you bring him here?" O'Neill asked, looking uncomfortable.

"Several reasons," Markus answered. "One, I was curious about him. Two, I didn't think it was a good idea to have two of you running around. And last, I wanted to know if we could persuade him to our way of thinking. That's the main reason I need one of you to stay behind," Markus explained. "I hope that Murray, who understands how you think, Jack -- will convince Major O'Neill to help us."

"Teal'c," Teal'c said abruptly. He had been watching everyone so quietly that Sam had nearly forgotten he was in the room. "My name is Teal'c. 'Murray' is a name I use among those I do not trust." He bowed his head to Markus. "I would be honored to assist you in this task. Colonel O'Neill once freed me from beliefs in false gods, and I wish to do the same for him."

"Thank you. Teal'c." Markus tried the name tentatively then smiled, appreciating it for the gift it was. "Do you still want to travel with me, Daniel, or would you like to go with the others after all?"

Daniel glanced at Jack and then at Markus and back, worrying at his lower lip in indecision.

"Daniel," O'Neill said, rolling his eyes, "I know how much you want to go to the meeting. Just go." He made a shoo-ing motion with his hand. "I'll be fine. We'll stay in touch by radio."

Turning back to Markus with a smile, Daniel answered, "Great. Then I'd still like to come."

"Good. Are you both packed?" Markus asked. "Erin's getting Jeremiah and Kurdy. They'll meet us up top."

O'Neill grimaced. "We don't really need escorts. We can find Kansas on our own."

Markus swept O'Neill with his eyes and challenged with a sketch of a smile and lifted brows. "You're wearing that?"

Defensive, knowing that Markus was setting him up, Jack answered, "What's wrong with it?"

"It's military, for one. It's also **new**," Markus pointed out. "New clothes are a valuable commodity that can get you killed. This is not your Earth. Jeremiah and Kurdy will do their best to keep you safe. I advise that you listen to them." He didn't wait for any acknowledgment, perhaps realizing that he wasn't likely to get one from O'Neill. He glanced at Sam. "You should change too."

She nodded slowly. Killed for their clothes? "I'll pop next door."

In her room, she changed into jeans and a ratty purple sweater from the bureau. She couldn't part with her underwear or her boots though, even though she knew it would be wiser. If someone got close enough to realize her underwear was new, she was in bigger trouble than that.

She grabbed the pack and joined them in the hall. Markus gave her an approving nod and led the way to the elevators, which came promptly this early in the morning.

They came out on the first level, went through the open inner bulkhead doors and into the cavernous space that Sam knew as the parking tunnel. Even though the outer doors were closed, it was still cold. She pulled her jacket closed, and looked around.

It wasn't that different from the SGC. There were military open-top jeeps parked at the near end, as well as a few civilian vehicles. A space along the side had been set aside for repairs, going by the car up on a lift and the oil stains on the concrete.

The overhead lights were on, and by their light she could see Erin and a teenage boy waiting by a table mounded with supplies next to one of the jeeps.

She glanced up to see them enter and her smile of greeting was as tired as Sam felt. "'Morning. You don't look sick, Jack."

"Don't let the good looks fool you," he quipped. "The sooner I can get out of here, the better."

Erin shifted her gaze to Markus. "Jeremiah and Kurdy are on their way."

"Good." He glanced at the coltish young teenager standing next to her, with a perplexed frown. "Victor, what are you doing up?"

Erin patted his arm with a smile. Victor had a slightly worshipful glaze in his eyes as he looked at her that Sam found amusingly familiar. "Found him wandering the halls, and pressed him into service. He helped me gather supplies."

O'Neill strode up to the table and scanned the equipment. "Ah, my sidearm. MP5. Ammo. Grenade launcher. **Nice**." He touched it in gentle appreciation. "Food, always good." He fingered a mound of green string. "Camo net. What do we need that for?"

"To hide the car," Kurdy explained from behind them. "A car with gas is worth a lot of food these days."

"Not that you'd know anything about that," Jeremiah teased him.

Sam turned to find the two men approaching, carrying packs that made hers look huge.

"Glad you're here," Markus greeted them. "I'm sure you'd like an explanation, but time is of the essence. Sam and Jack will give you one on the way."

"Yeah, no problem. But before we go, I have a question," Kurdy said, putting his pack down at his feet. "I want to make sure someone's going with you to the meeting."

"Daniel is," Markus answered.

"And?" Kurdy prompted.

Markus' smile looked very forced. "And that's all. If you four would get your gear --"

Kurdy interrupted, shaking his head. "Nope. A **doctor of archaeology** is not somebody I want watching your back. No offense, Daniel."

Daniel looked bemused. "None taken. I guess."

Markus folded his arms, open irritation rising in his expression. "Would you all -- " his glare swept across the whole group, " -- just give it a **rest**? This has gone beyond annoying, into really starting to piss me off. I am not, despite what everyone seems to think, incapable of defending myself. You and you," he pointed at Jeremiah and Kurdy then at Sam and the colonel, "are going with them. And Daniel is coming with me. The rest of you are staying here. Understood? Good. Have a good trip."

He turned and stalked off. Sam flinched when the door slammed.

Erin chuckled ruefully, breaking the following silence. "I told you he would hate it."

"The question is," O'Neill said to Kurdy, "are you gonna listen to him? I trust Daniel to watch my six in a firefight, but as Markus himself just told us, this isn't our world. We don't understand the dangers. That's why he's sending you guys with us."

Victor suddenly spoke up. "Maybe one of you could go with them, and one could go with Markus. Cuz he needs someone who knows the Outside to watch over him."

Erin nodded and bestowed a smile on the boy, which made him glow. "I wouldn't ordinarily counter what Markus orders, but Victor has a point. Markus is being stubborn and cranky -- there's no reason why Sam and Jack need both of you."

Jeremiah and Kurdy shared a long look.

"You okay with it, man?" Kurdy asked him. "If I go with Markus?"

"Yeah. I am. You watch your back, since I can't. And you watch Markus' back, since he's got all the brains in the world, but not one grain of common sense."

Kurdy snorted. "Ain't that the truth."

"All right, everyone who's going, let's get this show on the road," O'Neill ordered. "Carter, grab some weapons. Jeremiah, you make sure she doesn't forget anything important. Like the camo net."

He grabbed his pack in one hand and hers in his other and took them to the jeep, heaving them into the back. He'd thrown both in, when he gave a loud gasp. Sam glanced at him in alarm.

He was holding on with both hands to the side of the jeep, but his whole body seemed to be flickering, haloed in white light as his physical form seemed to slip in and out of existence. Without seeming to cross the intervening space, Teal'c was suddenly there to hold him up. The episode quickly passed and he sagged.

"Holy shit," Jeremiah whispered. He was staring with wide eyes at O'Neill. Erin, Kurdy, and Victor were likewise shocked, and Sam had the odd thought that Markus was going to be disappointed that he missed seeing it.

"Jeremiah, help me. We have to go, now." She grabbed up the gear and started to throw it in the back. They could arrange it later, when they'd gone some distance. Jeremiah moved slowly at first, still watching O'Neill warily, but then seemed to shake it off and help her get the stuff in the truck.

"You will be well, O'Neill," Teal'c said, something between a question and a command, as he set O'Neill back on his feet.

O'Neill patted his shoulder once and stepped back. "I'll be fine. Carter, don't forget our radios. Daniel can take his, and that way we'll all be in contact."

"Got them, sir. We're ready."

"Then climb aboard," he ordered. "Daniel, have fun. Try not to get into trouble. T, you hold down the fort. We'll be back when we can."

Jeremiah raised his hand toward Kurdy and Erin. "See ya. Hey, Erin, tell Lee we're not done yet. We're gonna have a chat when I get back."

She smiled. "I'm sure he's holding his breath. Oh, before I forget, here, Jack. I thought you might need this."

She handed Jack a soft, blue woolen cap to pull down over his ears. Except for the color, it looked just like the black one Teal'c often wore on Earth, to hide his brand of Apophis. This one was to hide his gray hair. Sam smiled, but knew better than to laugh. "Gee, thanks," he grunted.

"You're welcome. Now, get going."

Jeremiah and O'Neill automatically moved to the front to drive, meeting in front of the door. Sam bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud. Her gaze found Erin's, and the younger woman rolled her eyes. Apparently some things were constant, from one dimension to another.

"After you," O'Neill invited broadly, and went around the hood to the other front door. Sam resigned herself to the narrow back bench seat and climbed over the side.

Jeremiah started the car and soon they were on their way. The massive outer doors opened and they drove into the darkness.

\---+---

Later that morning, Daniel waited with Kurdy beside him as a crowd gathered in the cafeteria. The normal breakfast tables hadn't been set up, so the room was mostly open space. At the end, just in front of the Stargate fountain, a wooden box and microphone stand waited for Markus to come in. A few people had already tested the mike and its connections to the mountain intercom system, so it was ready. Erin and the members of the advisory council talked nearby.

From their vantage point at the side, Kurdy surveyed the proceedings with folded arms. He ranted in a barely audible voice, "I told Markus this was a bad idea. But did he listen? Hell, no."

Daniel restrained a sigh, and said patiently, "No one is going to try anything in front of a crowd like this, Kurdy. They'd get ripped apart." Then he smiled a little. "Besides, with Teal'c shepherding him --"

Kurdy frowned at him. "Teal'c?"

"Oh, sorry," Daniel kicked himself. "That's Murray's first name. He doesn't give it out casually. It's a, um, ethnic thing."

Kurdy looked curious and was about to ask something, when a murmur and rustle went through the crowd. Daniel turned, to see Markus coming in through the main door, with Teal'c on his heels. Markus spoke briefly to various people as he went through the crowd, but wouldn't be stopped on his way to the microphone. He greeted the council members and then mounted the box. "Good morning," he said, and the mike carried his words all through the inside of the mountain.

In her room, Meaghan laid aside her book and listened with her eyes closed, a small proud smile on her lips.

In a cell, several levels above her, Lee sat on his cot with his knees drawn up, and listened with his face turned toward the speaker as if he could see Markus on the other end.

Across the room in their own cell, Majors Kawalsky and O'Neill were playing cards. At first they continued to play, but the pace of dealing and discarding slowed, until they couldn't pretend that they weren't listening.

In the cafeteria, Markus looked out on the gathered people and hesitated, looking a bit pale and nervous. Then he took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and started. "Thank you for coming. I'm not usually given to speeches, but today is an important day for Thunder Mountain and I wanted to share my thoughts on why it's important. I promise I'll try to be brief, but breakfast service will continue after I'm finished, no matter when that is." A low chuckle went through the crowd, and it helped Markus relax enough that his voice loosened up and he stopped shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Everyone inside the mountain has heard about the meeting in St. Louis. Many of you have worked on one aspect of it or another. But I know that some of you don't understand why Thunder Mountain is going to reveal itself to the outside world, or why it's necessary that we talk to these other outside leaders at all. I'm sure it feels… dangerous. We've been safe in here for fifteen years. It's been our home and our sanctuary from the harsh realities of the Outside. And the thought of 'out there' is scary. Trust me, it's scary to me too.

"But Thunder Mountain isn't only about being safe." He shook his head once. His tone changed slightly, becoming less conversational and revealing how deeply he meant his words. "Our purpose -- our destiny, if you will -- is to take what we have saved and what we've learned, and rebuild our civilization, better and stronger than it was. It won't be easy. It won't be quick. The old world died in less than a week, but we mere mortals are going to take a lot longer to create a new one. But that's what the St. Louis meeting is about -- the first step on a long road to bring people back together. Because we can't do it alone. And if we don't do it at all, there are forces in this world that are going to do it for us, and we won't want to live in the world they plan to create."

Markus paused, shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, and then took them out again. His expression was reluctant, but determined. He didn't like what he was about to say at all. "The rumors are true. There is a real place known as Valhalla Sector. They are a group of people, mostly soldiers, who survived the Big Death in a place a lot like this one, a bunker hidden from the outside world. But they're not like us. They're relics of the past. While they were hiding in their cave, the world passed them by, but they don't understand that. Their leaders want to put our world under their domination, whatever the cost, whoever they have to kill to get it. Worse, they've been experimenting with ways to bring back the Big Death as a tool of control."

An alarmed whisper ran through the gathered crowd. Markus let it run its course and spoke again, standing tall. "Yes, it's horrible. And it proves that they never learned the lessons that we all did, when we watched our parents die and the world crumble around us. As a country, as a people, we can't go back -- we can only go forward. But in order to do that, we need friends. To stand against Valhalla Sector's plans of conquest, we need allies. That's what I hope to find at the meeting in St. Louis.

"Hope," he repeated, more softly, as though tasting the word. "We have hope in the future, but outside these walls, hope is something people generally try not to believe in. I'd like to think that we have enough hope to spare and give to others without losing any ourselves. That's the message I'm going to take to St. Louis. If all goes well, I'll bring back word of a new alliance, working together toward that hopeful and better future."

In the absolute silence, his deep breath seemed loud. He glanced at Erin and the others standing to his left. "While I'm gone, the advisory council has my full confidence and authority. They know what to do. Thank you all for your attention."

He paused, to allow for polite clapping, but the room remained still and silent. He stepped down off the box, and cast a worried glance out into the quiet crowd. Erin and the short-haired, tall man named Andrew took two steps toward him, Erin with a reassuring smile.

Daniel didn't know who started it -- if anyone -- it seemed to rise instantaneously. The entire cafeteria broke into thunderous applause and even a few scattered whistles and cheers. Markus closed his eyes, sagging in relief, before he turned and waved his hand in thanks. Erin and Andrew and the other council members gathered around him. The tumult died down as the crowd began to disperse.

Daniel turned to Kurdy, who was still watching Markus. He'd folded his arms and was leaning against the wall in a casual attitude, a relic of more cynical times in the outside, Daniel thought. But he certainly wasn't cynical about what Markus had said. He shook his head ruefully. "Never heard him lay it all out like that before. Makes sense, y'know?"

Smiling, Daniel nodded his agreement. Markus was not a great speaker -- there was no smooth talking, brilliant rhetorical talent on display. He was awkward, clearly unaccustomed to speaking to large groups of people. And yet … his ability was enough to let the clarity of his vision shine through. He knew what he believed in, and he knew what to do to achieve it. And in this time and place, Daniel suspected that held a very powerful appeal.

"So," he asked Kurdy, "how does it feel to know you're going to watch history being made?"

Kurdy grunted, only now turning his eyes toward Daniel, "I'll settle for getting us all back home in one piece."

Daniel leveled a look on him. "Come on. You're not the least bit excited?"

Kurdy straightened up abruptly. "Markus is waving us over."

Daniel followed, smiling at Kurdy's back. It was always the same -- the tough guys tried to pretend they didn't care, when they were often the ones who cared the most.

It should be an interesting trip.

\---+---

Jack sat on the prison bunk, staring straight ahead. He felt blind-sided by the speech. His only witty comment sounded flat even to him. Charlie refused to meet his eyes. Conflicted thoughts ran rampant through his mind. Since the virus had taken down the system, Valhalla Sector was all he had known. He had trusted his president and the military to do the right thing.

This kid called him a relic of the past. Jack suddenly felt old.

"Do you begin to understand?" Lee asked from the other cell. "Markus is an idealist, a visionary; someone who only believes in what good men can do. Yet he's intelligent and capable and has just enough charisma to make everyone around him believe too. Look at you guys, you weren't even in the same room, yet you felt it, didn't you? I wish he'd stay here, since I know the enemies he's up against, but he can't. He understands how the Outside needs hope and **something** to believe in; **someone** who won't let them down or capitalize on their weaknesses."

Jack felt everything Lee was saying, but he couldn't admit it. "It's ironic, isn't it, Chen? You come here to spy, then you get found out. However, your loyalties have changed, but it doesn't make a bit of difference. Markus doesn't trust you anymore. Life sucks, huh?"

Lee didn't answer.

The door opened. Breakfast had been served and removed already. Maybe they were in for some visitors. Would it be Markus? Or the pretty blond who accompanied him, but didn't talk much.

Jack blinked as he took a good look at the hulking black man who entered. He had a strange gold emblem on his forehead. Instead of taking a chair, he lowered himself to the floor and sat cross-legged, staring into the cell where he and Kawalsky were.

"Lee Chen? Is it normal to keep two prisoners in one cell? I have not heard of this custom." His voice started somewhere around his ankles. Jack was impressed.

"No," Lee answered. "We're just short of space."

The big guy stared at Jack. And stared some more. Jack was growing uncomfortable. He called on all his military training not to flinch or look away.

"I am Murray," the man said. "I have been asked to keep my eyes on you."

"Does that mean you're gonna stare for hours?" Jack asked, trying for flippancy, but failing.

"Yes."

Jack swallowed thickly. "Why?"

"Because I know how an O'Neill thinks."

"What the hell? What made you an expert on me?"

"Not on you. On an O'Neill."

"You've met my family?" he asked, bewildered and yet curious. He hadn't thought any of them had survived the Big Death.

"I have not." He tilted his head. "You have family?" he inquired.

Jack groaned. This was getting them nowhere. "Can you tell what I'm thinking now?"

"Indeed I can," he answered "You are confused and hide behind anger and jokes. Your mind is actively seeking a way out of this, yet you have a reluctance to harm anyone, for it is not your nature to hurt the innocent. Do not be concerned, O'Neill. You will know the right choice when it is time."

"Yeah, right." Jack managed a few more seconds of bravado, until Murray's self-assured regard was too much, and he had to drop his eyes to his hands.

\---+---

The captain backed out of the hall into the corridor. As he ran to his quarters, echoes of thunderous applause assaulted his ears. He retrieved his sat phone and rushed to the monitoring room on 24. He opened the door and made sure he was alone before entering and closing the door behind him. He plugged the phone into the terminal with shaking hands.

Markus was leaving today. The colonel had to know this as soon as possible. Lee would have known that this was coming up, why hadn't he reported this earlier? Maybe he had and that was how he was caught.

O'Neill and the woman had not been at the speech. In fact, Jeremiah hadn't been there either, even though his partner was. Where were they?

He had so much to report. He typed in his request to access the comm system and got his first unwelcome surprise.

The screen went blank, and then it spat back a message, "_**Permission Denied. If you have a legitmate need to access the system, you know where to go. If you're a traitor and you're spying for Valhalla Sector, then too bad. Have a nice day**_."

"Son of a bitch!" He slammed the console. The bastard Markus had closed the access ports. He should've killed him yesterday when he had the chance, and to hell with the consequences. If he hurried maybe he could still take the smug traitor down. Somebody had to.

He yanked the phone out of the jack and was halfway to the door, when it opened for his second unwelcome surprise of the morning.

Sixteen-year old Kristen stood in the doorway. "I-I heard a noise," she stammered. Her eyes widened when she saw the phone in his hand.

Damn. He had always liked her. She was a pretty girl, friendly and kind.

What a pity she had picked today to investigate strange noises.


	9. Chapter 9

The silence stretched uncomfortably as Jeremiah drove down the winding road that led from the Mountain to the main road. Jack's first instinct had been to turn on the radio, but as he reached, Jeremiah sniggered softly. Nope, no stations. It was the first of many differences between the two worlds. The lack of traffic was the most noticeable. US 24 was totally deserted. It went from being weird to eerie.

The jeep hit numerous bumps, causing Jack to hit his head against the window. "Watch it," he cautioned, grumpily.

"Look, there hasn't been anyone to fix these roads in fifteen years. They're gonna be rough. Suck it up," Jeremiah answered.

"How long do you think this trip is gonna take?" Jack asked, knowing this universe was going to have to be longer than in his own, especially if all the roads were this bad.

"If we're lucky, all day. We have to take a few detours where the road is gone or too dangerous to drive on. We'll stop before Lawrence, camp out and then try and find your, whatever it is you're looking for, tomorrow. I still don't know what it is."

"The cult from Simon's journal," Carter spoke up from the back. "We think we have the location of their compound. That's where we're going."

"Cults are usually bad news," Jeremiah advised, and then sighed. "Never mind. I'm sure you have a reason. I probably don't want to know."

"There's this -- ow," Jack yelped, as Carter's flailing hand struck the back of his head, when the car tipped on a particularly rough patch. He decided he didn't want to bring up the Goa'uld while Jeremiah needed his full concentration. "Later. After we've stopped."

Jack moodily sat back determined to nap a little, help make the time pass more quickly.

\---+---

Jeremiah looked at his old passenger who had begun to snore. "Does he do that on purpose?"

Sam shrugged her shoulders. "The colonel is law unto himself. You just can't explain it. Right now, no, he's not snoring to annoy you. Even sleeping, he just has the gift," she replied with exasperated fondness.

Jeremiah went back to driving. The last time he and Kurdy had come this way, there had been a gang of skinheads covering I 70 into Kansas. To reroute would take several hours. He couldn't decide whether to chance sneaking through or to play it safe. Taking another glance at the sleeping man, Jeremiah decided to play it safe.

"Why are you getting off?" Sam asked.

"Dangerous terrain ahead. Don't really want to chance it." She nodded, accepting his explanation, where the other would have argued. He let some time pass. The quiet began getting to him. "So, you're really not from Valhalla Sector?"

"Nope," Sam answered, "although from the descriptions we've heard, it sounds like it's run by the NID."

"Never heard of them. Are they military?"

"Sort of. NID stands for National Institute for Defense. They're supposed to be a civilian agency overseeing the military, answerable to Congress. But in truth they answer to no one. They claim they're defending the country, but they don't care how. And those are the good agents. The shadier ones lie, steal, and stab each other in the back, anything to get ahead."

Jeremiah asked dryly, "I take it you like them?"

She chuckled. "Well, one or two of them are okay. But the rest … I wouldn't let them take care of a goldfish. They steal artifacts from other cultures, without regard to whether the other people need them or not. They nearly managed to get all of our allies to abandon us."

The slumbering man awoke. "What Carter means, is that the NID are a bunch of amoral, hypocritical bastards out for number one--themselves. 'National Defense' is just their cover story."

Jeremiah shook his head a little. It sounded a lot like the world he lived in, but he didn't say it.

When he glanced to the right, he saw Jack frowning out the window. The eastern sky was lightening now, giving a wider glimpse of their surroundings. They were passing through the remnants of one of the old suburbs of Colorado Springs. The houses had once been full of families and dogs -- now they were abandoned and decaying. That was probably what Sam and Jack were thinking about. But Jeremiah knew that abandoned-looking places could be the most dangerous. Luckily at this hour, if anyone was around, they were likely still sleeping.

"The worst thing you'll find," Jeremiah explained, "worse than Valhalla, are the skin-heads. They're pseudo-military-style gangs that hunt in packs. They get enjoyment out of torturing their victims to death, although they especially target other races. Don't know what they'd do with an old person. It might be real ugly." He looked at his companions. Sam nodded, taking the warning seriously. Jack had a granite face, so Jeremiah was unsure of his reaction.

They continued on for awhile, lost in their own thoughts. Jeremiah left a main road. At the first intersection, he pulled off to the side of the road. "Gotta add some gas to the tank. Jack, take out your gun and keep watch, just in case someone's looking on."

Startled, Jack jumped out of the jeep and brought out his gun. Jeremiah took a quick glance around him, to make sure they didn't have anyone sneaking up, then unloaded a large container of gas from the back. Undoing the top, he began filling the tank. He knew it would take two, but didn't know how long they would have before someone came to investigate.

After emptying the second jug, and still seeing no one around, they decided to eat. Sam handed out the sandwiches and drinks.

"So, what direction next?" Jack asked, crumpling up the wrapper.

"Another ten miles," Jeremiah answered, "and then we'll turn north 'til we hit 36 east."

"You need a break?" Jack asked. "I've been sleeping, so I'm all rested and ready to try my old hands at steering."

Jeremiah smiled. "Okay," he reluctantly agreed. "But you're sure that thing that happened to you back at the Mountain isn't gonna happen again? I'd hate to have you run the jeep off the road."

"I feel fine," he quickly asserted. "Carter, tell him, it'll be safe enough for me to drive."

She shrugged her shoulders.

Jeremiah didn't have a clue how to interpret her answer. Seeing how bored and eager the old man was, he gave in. "Okay, I'll take a break. But when I say I want the wheel back, you promise no arguments?"

Jack looked solemnly at him. "You have my word."

As Jack reached cruising speed, Sam asked, "Can I ask how much you remember of your parents?"

"Not a lot," Jeremiah admitted. "Not any more. But I remember that last day…" He remembered his mother crying and hugging him fiercely, his father with a shotgun, going to get his files from the lab. "They promised they'd be back in an hour," he murmured. "They never came home."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, sounding genuinely sad.

He shrugged, trying to set aside the old pain. "I'm not the only one with that story. Hell, at least I didn't have to watch." He shook his head and shuddered. The Big Death wasn't a pretty way to die. "And y'know, my dad's still alive. There aren't many who can say that."

"But he's out of reach," Jack said, wiggling around in his seat, settling in.

"Not for long," Jeremiah declared grimly. "Assuming Lee's right, those bastards in Valhalla are keeping him prisoner. But I'm going to get him out if it's the last thing I do."

"But you're not going to go there alone, are you?" Sam asked. "Everything I've heard about the place suggests it would be worse than suicide."

Jeremiah opened his mouth to say he would. After all, he now had confirmation that his father was there -- fifteen years of searching had finally led him to the elusive Valhalla Sector. He had vowed long ago not to stop until he could see his dad, face to face, and look him in the eye. But could he seriously risk not only himself, or his father, but the whole damn planet if his presence was enough to make his dad give up the secrets of the Big Death? Did he want to force his dad into making that choice?

The answer, he realized with some surprise, was no.

\---+---

Back again in the parking garage, a mere four hours after he'd left it, Daniel braced himself for an angry scene when Markus entered and saw Kurdy. Surprisingly, Markus didn't made too much of a fuss. He just shook his head in resignation as he came over to where Kurdy, Daniel, Teal'c, and Erin waited by the gear table.

Daniel noticed, rather to his shock, that Markus was wearing a gun in a thigh holster. Even more surprisingly, he moved like he was used to it.

Neither Erin nor Teal'c seemed to think this was strange, but Kurdy's face, when Daniel glanced aside, was openly amazed.

Markus noticed their expressions and said, with a pointed glance at Erin, "I told you I could take care of myself."

"And you can use it?" Kurdy asked, dubiously. Daniel, for himself, didn't doubt it at all. Markus knew better than to wear weapons he couldn't manage.

Smiling very faintly, Markus answered, "Almost everyone at Thunder Mountain can handle a gun, Kurdy. We've always known that the Outside world was going to come knocking, sooner or later, and we'd have to defend ourselves. Come on, let's get this show on the road."

He beckoned Kurdy over to the hood of their blue and silver Ford Bronco, where he spread out a map. The two were soon deep in conversation about their route to St. Louis.

Daniel went to help Erin pack their gear in the back. She pushed up close, close enough that Daniel started to wonder, but then she slipped a canvas bag against his fingers.

"There's an extra gun in this one," she whispered. "It's for you or Kurdy to take into the meeting in secret."

Daniel frowned. "I thought there weren't supposed to be weapons." He had a flash of memory of Osiris with a blade at his throat -- a weapon she hadn't been supposed to have at the Goa'uld summit.

"There's not. Nathan's supposed to search people on the way in. But he won't search you guys, and I doubt he'll catch them all anyway. A lot of the Outside people won't go anywhere without a weapon. Frankly if rivalries getting out of hand are the worst thing to happen, you'll be lucky." She leaned closer and advised, "**Don't** let Markus find it."

She waited until he nodded and then she stepped away, slamming the tail gate and calling, "Markus, you won't make it by tomorrow if you don't get going."

"Right." He folded the map up and tossed it onto the front seat. "Kurdy, you invited yourself on our little trip, so you get to drive. Is all the gear stowed?"

"Yes. You're all packed," Erin answered.

"Good. If you want to reach me, you'll have to use the comm room, now that I shut off all the uplink jacks."

She smiled tolerantly, folding her arms. "I know, Mom. We'll be fine. I promise I won't do anything too stupid while you're gone."

Her teasing barely got his lips to twitch upward. "I'm sure. You'll visit our mutual friend?"

"I will," she reassured him. "Good luck in St. Louis. You'll do great -- just talk like you did this morning."

"I don't think the audience will be as friendly," Markus smiled wryly. "But I certainly will give it a try." He looked around, up to the ceiling and back toward the mountain's main entrance but clearly seeing beyond the walls of this one space. "Strange," he murmured, "when I came to this place, I hated it so much. I had other things I wanted to do, a direction my life was supposed to go in, and I didn't want to get stuck in a hole in the ground. But sometimes, I suppose, destiny puts us where we're supposed to be, even when we don't want to go there."

He glanced at Erin again. "Take care of my home. That's all I ask."

She nodded. "I will. You be careful."

He nodded and took a deep breath. "I guess it's time to go then." But he still didn't move, as if his feet were rooted to the concrete.

Teal'c took a single step forward, drawing the others' attention. "This place will not change, Markus Alexander -- you will. You know, in your heart, that you will not be the same person who returns as leaves today. You fear that change, but you should not. It is right and it is necessary that all people must grow to their full potential, and that will not happen if you remain here, for you or anyone else."

Markus listened, unblinking, and then quirked a smile up at the taller and bigger Jaffa. "You're not from Earth, are you?"

"No, I am not," Teal'c confirmed.

"Didn't think so. But, thank you. Point taken." He let out a long breath. "Okay, I'm going to leave now." It took an extra few seconds but he did pry his feet up and manage to open the front passenger door of the Bronco and get in without any more hesitation.

Daniel and Teal'c clasped arms in a Jaffa hand-shake. "Take care of yourself, Teal'c," Daniel wished him.

"You also, Daniel Jackson."

"You really think you can change the other O'Neill's stand?"

"It has already changed, but he must come to this realization himself."

"You can tell this from your one tiny visit?" Daniel teased.

"I can," he assured, as Daniel got into the backseat.

Kurdy and Erin said their brief goodbyes. Not long after, Kurdy started the car and drove off through the opening bunker doors that cut Cheyenne Mountain off from the outside world.

\---+---

Malek reluctantly left his lab and as he slowly traversed back to the main business section, he began to notice how empty the halls were. There were no guards at the intersections, or in the elevators. Inside the main dining hall women were sitting in small groups having hushed conversations, but very few men.

_'It has begun'_, Malek concluded. _'Markus Alexander must be having his meeting in Saint Louis_.'

_'So, the choice has come to us. Do we try and escape, go to this meeting, or--'_

_'We cannot leave Devon, Chuan_.'

_'What __if we contact Jolinar? It is her turn in the tunnels. Let her travel to St. Louis and listen to what this leader is going to say_.'

_'Excellent compromise_.' Malek left the food area, and returned to his room. He fished the silver amulet out from beneath his shirt, opened it up and took out the communication device nestled within. He contacted his colleague and explained the situation. She agreed to go check it out.

Chuan commented, when they had ended the communication. _'I am glad the Tok'ra decided to make a small base within the mountains. Close to us, yet removed enough for them to stay hidden.'_

Malek sat down in the middle of the floor and began to plan. His ears picked up footsteps in the hall and then a rapping on the door.

Chuan took over. _'Let me_.' He went and opened the door to find Libby standing outside.

"Devon fell asleep. Don't suppose you have any more of those white pills? We used up the last one this morning." She stepped in and looked around. "You're the only man I know who keeps his rooms immaculate. How do you do it?"

"I don't let items accumulate," Chuan answered.

She went to the shelf where he kept his treasures: one green ceramic Japanese tea pot which he had brought back from a trip outside (Chuan liked it and thought it was in keeping with their supposed ethnicity), and a black lacquer box in which he kept tunnel crystals. Some years ago, Lantash had decided that leaving Malek entirely to the mercies of the humans was not wise, and had given him crystals. So, as long as Malek could access an outside wall, he could escape. The pot and the box were the only two 'personal' things in his room. When the soldiers searched it, as they did periodically, he didn't worry, because there was nothing to find.

"These are so pretty," she looked at the crystals in their box and then closed the lid. Since there was nothing else to see, she plopped down on one of the chairs. "Have you noticed anything weird lately?" she asked.

"You mean the lack of soldiers at every door?"

"Yes, that's it. No soldiers. Are we fighting a war?"

"I don't think so. At least not yet."

"Who are they fighting against?" she asked, then stiffened. "Oh, Thunder Mountain's gone to St. Louis…" she let her sentence hang in invitation to confirm.

Malek nodded.

"Has Waverly said anything else to you? How many soldiers is he taking?"

"Many," Malek answered. "I heard mention that he's pulling the Eighth back in from Washington, too."

"Really? That's a lot of soldiers," she said. Suddenly a very concerned expression came over her face. "The General won't kill Markus, will he? I mean he'll want to question him, right? Find out everything he can?"

_'That is our hope_,' Chuan commented silently with imaginary fingers crossed.

Malek had given Waverly an incentive to keep Markus alive. He and Devon had made up a story about how Quantrell had told him, long ago, that there was a secret regarding the Big Death in Thunder Mountain. Quantrell, conveniently, was gone, and could neither confirm nor deny this story. The Big Death was the biggest bait they could think of to dangle in front of Waverly to keep Markus alive. "You're probably right," Malek agreed out loud. "The general will prefer to interrogate him, if our forces capture him."

"That's what I thought." Libby jumped up from her chair. "Well, it's been nice talking with ya. I better go check on Devon. Do you have the pills?"

Malek blinked, his mind trying to keep up with her quicksilver change of topics. "Of course." He took the innocuous glass bottle full of what looked like tiny white decorative beads from his desk drawer and poured out a dozen into a folded piece of yellow paper and handed it to her.

Libby shoved them into her pocket and gave him a smile. "Thanks. See you later."

Malek and Chuan sat back down after she had left. '_Her exuberance is exhausting_,' Malek couldn't help expressing.

_'That's because you're old_,' Chuan snidely returned.

\---+---

They had been on the road for several hours. Markus sat alone with his thoughts and worries, while Kurdy drove with quiet concentration, avoiding potholes. Daniel was in the backseat, scribbling in a journal or book. Markus was curious and really wanted to know what the man was writing. More importantly, he was bored with his own thoughts and wanted to talk.

"Something the matter?" Daniel inquired.

"No, " Markus answered feeling a bit defensive. "Why?"

"You keep turning around and looking at me." Then Daniel smiled. "What do you want to ask?"

Caught. Better make the most of the opportunity. "I'm curious about your life. It seems so foreign to us, you know, coming from a world without the Big Death."

Daniel closed his journal and shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. It's not that different from fifteen years ago -- the technology's more advanced, but we're still people with different opinions. I haven't been touched by the wars on Earth too much. But in space, Earth has some pretty dangerous enemies who would like nothing better than to enslave all of Earth again, and use the population as hosts."

"Are you talking about aliens?" Kurdy demanded incredulously. "Space aliens?"

Markus smiled at his tone, realizing he had probably sounded the same. Daniel answered patiently, "Yes. Aliens."

"Damn," Kurdy muttered, impressed and shocked.

Daniel explained, "Our enemies are a parasitic race called the Goa'uld. They're aquatic snake-like creatures that invade your body, wrap around your spine, and inhabit your mind. They take complete control, leaving you a prisoner without a voice. However, the Goa'uld have a sister race, called the Tok'ra, since they first started as a movement against Ra, who was the most dominant system lord at one time. Jack doesn't see any difference, but I do. The Tok'ra symbiotes also take hosts, but the personality of the host blends with the symbiote's, so that it's two souls within one body. The host shelters, gives a home to the symbiote. In turn, the host receives complete freedom from disease, extra strength, enhanced senses, a quicker healing time, and a little voice that never goes away."

Markus cleared his throat. "What do you mean by 'again?'"

Daniel looked puzzled.

"You said the Goa'uld want to enslave Earth again," Markus reminded him.

"That was the basis of my thesis, that aliens had been to Earth and that the Egyptian language and mythology were older than anyone had imagined. Turned out I was right. They were here thousands of years ago. Ra, Hathor, Osiris, Isis, Apophis, and many others, were all Goa'uld system lords who took over or created mythological identities. Seth is still here, that's who Sam and Jack are going after."

"You mean Jeremiah is off chasing these goold people?" Kurdy asked, sounding distressed.

"He should be okay. Jack and Sam will watch his back. We've had experience with Seth before. They know what to do," Daniel assured him.

Markus had no choice but hope things would turn out okay. He changed the subject. "These Tok'ra, do you fight them, too?"

"No, they're our allies. That's why when we first came we called you Malek, 'cause in our world, the Tok'ra Malek looks a lot like you. The Tok'ra are more advanced than we are, with technology we only dream about. And they won't share, much."

"But they do help?"

"Yes. Sam's dad had cancer, an incurable kind of lymphoma. We took Jacob to the Tok'ra, he blended with Selmak. Selmak cured the cancer and now we have an Air Force General in the Tok'ra ranks as kind of an ambassador."

"Selmak is the symbiote's name?"

"Right. The Tok'ra have two names, one for the host and one for the symbiote. With the Goa'uld, the host's name is forgotten."

Markus frowned, absorbing all this new information about galactic politics. Kurdy, from what Markus could see, just looked stunned. "So," Markus asked, "do you think this Tok'ra Malek _**is**_ me? Your reality's me?"

Daniel winced and looked as if he wished Markus hadn't asked. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I wasn't there when the others met Malek. From what they said, the resemblance is pretty strong. But he never gave his name or any indication he was from Earth, so if he is you, it's still a mystery how he managed to meet Malek. If and when we get back, I'm sure we'll ask."

Markus just shook his head in amazement. It wasn't that he couldn't understand what Daniel was saying. The concept of a different version of himself was not difficult to grasp. But trying to wrap his brain around how much different everything was, that was the tough part. He murmured, "No Big Death… Sounds like everyone's wish." And without the Big Death, he was sure he would have continued in physics. Probably would have remained totally absorbed in his work, or maybe fallen in love and gotten married, maybe had kids… But no, Daniel had already told him the end of the story, hadn't he? "So I somehow go out in space, become half **alien**… Strange. Such a different life from mine." But apparently he wasn't destined for a normal life, in any universe.

He looked out the window, trying to focus on the bigger picture. These Goa'uld made Valhalla Sector sound like good neighbors. Worse, if they came back to Earth, there was nothing he could do about it.

\---+---

"I know you know what's going on, Chen."

Lee refused to break down and answer Major O'Neill's various attempts at getting him to talk. He wasn't sure what the Colonel Jack guy was doing, but he refused to speculate aloud.

"Come on, Lee," the major continued to plead, "there must be--" He was interrupted when the door opened and Murray entered. He was carrying a fist-sized rubber ball.

"Here, O'Neill. Something to keep your hand occupied." Murray passed the ball into the cell.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" O'Neill whined.

"Bounce it against the wall, irritating everyone who can hear it."

Lee watched O'Neill blink and then take a few steps back. "Thanks," he said hesitantly.

"I have found you like to keep your hands busy. This ball was the best I could find."

Immediately O'Neill sat on the bed and began bouncing it off the wall. Murray pulled the single chair to the center of the room, and sat down with the attitude that suggested he might never move again.

"So, whatcha gonna talk about?" O'Neill asked their spectator.

"False gods."

"Huh?" he asked, dumbfounded. "Ya hear that Kawalsky, we're gonna get a religion lesson. Maybe I should get my pen and paper and take notes."

"I understand the military," Murray began. "As warriors, we are trained to obey our leaders to the death and not to question the chain of command. In our hearts we know whether these leaders deserve our respect. Sometimes they are great men, with real vision and moral character." He paused, eyeing O'Neill, then Kawalsky, and his eyes even wandered to Lee.

After the deliberate pause, Murray continued. "Then there are the false gods. They demand obedience, and accept nothing less. They refuse to listen to wise council, especially when it runs counter to their wishes. These gods demand we perform atrocities for their glory, actions which run opposite to our conscience. Soon the warrior's heart withers, and the soul becomes heavy with its burden. At this point we must make a decision. Stay and lose our soul to blackness, or change. Fight against tyranny. Fight for freedom."

He stopped and closed his eyes.

"Hey, where's the part about Jesus saves?" Jack quipped.

"I do not know Jesus, but each man must save himself."

"Don't know Jesus? What planet you been on?"

"Chulak. My commander was a false god. He expected blind obedience and death resulted when we failed."

"Pretty harsh," Kawalsky replied.

"We were ordered to destroy villages and kill women and children because they did not yield immediately but dared to fight back. We trained against each other; praised if we were able to kill our opponent. If our god gave us a command that would be impossible to execute, we went forth willingly to our deaths. Because he was to be obeyed at all costs."

"So, what happened?" O'Neill asked, all snide remarks gone.

Lee was curious too. He began to see what Murray was saying. The man was describing what he had lived through. The passion was unmistakable; it had to come from experience.

"I was shown a better way," he finally added. "A great man rescued my soul, and now I fight against the false gods, no matter where I find them."

Lee wondered who the 'great man' was. Could he be talking about Colonel O'Neill?

\---+---

"I'm going to have a look around," Jeremiah told them, getting up from his place by the fire. "Stay put," Jeremiah commanded, as he put on his heavy coat. "I won't be gone long."

"It's dark, for crying out loud. Who's gonna see me?" Jack asked, totally irritated. He hated taking orders, especially from someone so much younger.

"You're old, different. Old people carried the Big Death. That scares them. They'll shoot anyone who scares them," Jeremiah explained, as if they were only two years old. "I don't want to be the one to explain to Markus why you're dead." He waited a minute as if waiting for that to sink in. When Jack didn't respond, but grumpily started cleaning up, Jeremiah left.

"It's their world, Colonel," Carter mentioned, as soon as Jeremiah disappeared. "We should do as he suggests."

Jack turned incredulous eyes on her. "'Suggests'? He said to stay put or we'll get our asses shot for being old."

"Remember the kids when we first arrived here? It took days before any of them would stop hiding behind their mothers."

"Okay, point taken. But--" A twig snapped. Jack froze, tilted his head, listening intently. He grabbed his sidearm, and looked over at Carter who had already taken out hers and released the safety.

Now he could hear definite footsteps as they crunched the dead grass and weeds. The sound came from his right. It wasn't Jeremiah, since he would've yelled out, warning them of his approach.

"Hello?" a strange voice called out. "Will you share your fire? I'm pretty cold."

"Who're you?" Jack demanded, keeping his gun level.

"Just me, Mister Smith." A body emerged from the shadows.

"Mister Smith?" Jack echoed. What a strange name.

The curly-headed young man smiled. "That's me." He sat down by the fire, warming his hands. Tiny shivers racked his body. His coat didn't look heavy enough to protect him from the spring elements.

"Do you have any food?" he asked. "I haven't eaten in a few days and, uh, I was hoping you'd be willing to share?" He posed the last statement like a question and looked at them beseechingly.

Carter melted. "Sure," she volunteered, bringing out a bag of raw veggies--carrots, green beans and garden peppers.

Mister Smith's eyes widened in amazement, but eagerly took the bag. The entire display reminded Jack of Charlie whenever he had relented and bought some M&amp;Ms at the grocery store checkout.

"We have some soup. Why don't I warm you up some." Carter kept rummaging through her pack, removing bread and the tin of soup. Taking the pot, which Jeremiah had made Jack clean, she filled it and put it on the embers.

Jack wanted to warn her not to give up all their stores, but Smith seemed contented with what he had been given.

"So, where are you from?" Smith asked between bites.

Carter handed him some water.

"Minnesota," Jack answered. He was still wary of the kid, despite his seeming harmlessness -- Smith hadn't been surprised to see two 'old people' and that made Jack a little nervous.

"Hey, so am I. Great fishing up there. I bet you miss it--at least until the snow comes." He smiled and then took another bite.

"So, why are you so far from home?" Carter asked. She took the warmed soup from the fire and handed it to Smith who eagerly took it and began spooning it into his mouth.

After he had downed about half the soup, he answered, "I came to find you. I have a message."

Jack stiffened. "A message? From whom?"

Smith took a break from eating, but his face looked kind of sad. "From God," he answered earnestly.

"Why don't you tell us the message," Carter asked, obviously humoring him.

Jack started to wonder if Seth was closer than they had thought. But how in the hell would Seth know to look for them?

"God says you need to find the key in order to get home."

"A key?" Jack asked. This was not exactly the message from God that he'd been expecting.

"Yes. Those tuning arches won't put you back where you started without it."

Jack exchanged a startled glance with his teammate then asked, "What's a tuning arch?"

"No idea," Smith replied, drinking up the rest of the soup. "God says I don't need to understand, but the key isn't far from the ring."

Ring? Jack's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What do we do with the key when we find it?" Carter asked, sounding like she actually believed him.

Mister Smith shrugged his shoulders. "God doesn't tell me everything. Just enough so you'll understand." He stood up, brushing the crumbs off his clothes. "I have to go. Thank you for sharing your dinner. God said you were kind people even if you're, uh, old." He turned to leave and took a few steps before he stopped. He looked up at the stars for several seconds before turning back to them. "God says you won't find what you're looking for here. You should find your friend instead. He'll need you." With a quick wave, Mister Smith disappeared into the night.

"Well, that was weird," Jack commented, looking after the retreating figure.

"Twilight Zone material," Carter agreed.

"Do you buy any of that?" Jack asked, wanting to know if his scientifically-minded major believed in the mumbo-jumbo Mister Smith had spouted about talking to God.

"Well, maybe tuning arches could describe how we jumped realities. They tune time, not something like radio waves."

"You believe that he can talk to God? I mean not a Goa'uld but God?"

"Maybe he's psychic. We've seen that before," Carter suggested with a half shrug. "Or maybe his "God" is someone like Oma Desala, one of the Ascendants or something. But it makes sense that we need something to make the arches send us back to exactly where or when we left."

"Yeah, going in and coming out someplace totally different would **not** be a good thing," Jack agreed. "I didn't like the part about our friend needing us. Which friend, Teal'c or Daniel?"

Carter looked worried. "Teal'c's in the mountain. But Daniel should be on the road. Maybe they ran into a group like Jeremiah described."

Jack rolled his eyes, realizing how seriously they were taking the word of someone who talked to God. Sunday school had been a long time ago, but Jack was pretty sure God wasn't talking to people anymore, if He ever had. "Then again, maybe he was just a nut."

"But -- " she started.

He sighed. "Okay, okay. Just to make ourselves feel better…" Taking out his radio, he clicked it three times in the signal of requesting contact -- clicks were a lot less obvious than a sudden loud voice coming through the radio if there was trouble.

The answer was delayed long enough to be worrisome, but finally Daniel's voice came through. "Jackson. Go ahead."

"SG-One Leader. What's your status?"

"We're fine. We're camped for the night. How are you guys?" Daniel asked, making Jack smile. Daniel had never really learned radio protocol. But it was certainly a relief to find out he was good.

Jack answered, "Hunky dory. Our native buddy has gone off to check out the locals, see if he can get some intel on the snakehead."

There was a pause, and Jack knew that Daniel was amazed that he'd let Jeremiah go off on his own. Hurrying before Daniel could comment, "Did anything weird happen today? Any trouble, or strangers accost you?"

Daniel answered, "No. Our trip was quiet. Why, something happen to you?"

"Naw, but I know your propensity for trouble. I expected you to have run into a pack of these skin-heads and need us to come running to the rescue."

To Jack's surprise and concern, Daniel didn't say anything for what seemed like a very long time. "Daniel?" he prompted.

"Sorry. The Mountain just called. Hold on."

Jack hoped it was for the same reason he had just called--to check up on things. Using a stick, he pushed the coffeepot deeper in the coals. The night was clear, and it was shaping up to be pretty cold. Hot water would be very welcome later.

Jack waited just as long as he could. But he figured saying that everything was fine couldn't take this long, and he clicked the radio again. "Well? Any news?"

Markus' voice came instead of Daniel's. "This is the eagle." He gave his callsign with enough reluctance to make Jack smile. But Markus continued in such a flattened tone it wiped the smile away. Something was wrong. Something more than just a nickname he didn't care for. "Teal'c is fine. He's been spending time with your … twin." He stopped as if he was finished, but Jack knew there was more. Markus wouldn't sound like he'd been punched in the gut if that were all.

"But?" Jack prompted.

Markus answered reluctantly, "One of the ventilation baffles collapsed and fell on someone."

He had no idea what a baffle was, but falling on someone couldn't be good. But his instincts were suspicious. "Sabotage?"

For a long moment, there was only silence, and when Markus did speak, his voice barely came over the radio, "Sarah wasn't sure. But I know the equipment, and it's not likely to fall on its own. But worse … Kristen's dead." The radio went quiet for a moment. "Damn it."

Jack exchanged a glance with Carter, at the softly voiced sound of anguish.

The next sound was Daniel, a moment later. "It's me again," his teammate took over. "I should probably sign off."

Jack nodded, before he realized Daniel couldn't see him. "Yeah, okay. Tell him I'm sorry," Jack said. "But you watch yourselves, okay?"

"Will do. Good night."

Jack put the radio away, slowly. Thinking of a young woman who was now dead. This world had already seen so much death. It didn't seem right that anyone would deliberately kill after all that had happened.

"Colonel?" Carter said, rousing him out of his dark thoughts. "Jeremiah should be back by now."

Jack glanced around, saw no sign of their guide, and felt the stirrings of alarm. Carter was right, the kid should be back. "Maybe he ran into trouble."

He realized with a cold shiver of dread that maybe the mysterious "Mister Smith" had meant **Jeremiah** was their friend in need. He unfolded his legs and stood. "We better go look."

\---+---

As the evening deepened into night, Daniel reflected how quickly the mood of a place could change. Markus was standing at the edge of the fire-light, his arms folded, looking at the moonlit silhouette of a farmhouse. It did not look habitable even from a distance, so they had all made camp beneath overgrown oaks. Tall weedy brambles had flourished in the old drainage ditch at the side of the road, making an ad hoc hedge. Beyond them stretched the fields, now nothing but last year's grass and weeds.

It hadn't seemed so forlorn when they'd built camp. Kurdy had teased Markus about being too superior to take a turn driving, and Markus had countered by claiming he might get hurt cooking dinner, so Kurdy should really do that too, since he was determined to keep Markus safe. They'd glared at each other good-naturedly, until they'd laughed and Daniel had just shaken his head, wondering if he and Jack sounded like that to outsiders.

After putting a hash of potatoes, tomatoes, and dried rabbit in their stomachs, Daniel had taken a Hershey's chocolate bar from his pack, broken it into thirds and passed it around. "Here, dessert."

He was amazed by the reaction. They both handled their pieces like they were more precious than gold, staring in awe. "Chocolate," Kurdy breathed. "I haven't seen chocolate in a dozen years." He delicately nibbled a tiny bit and closed his eyes to enjoy every second.

Daniel glanced at the four squares of chocolate in his own hand, as the tragedy of the Big Death struck him once again. Something available on just about every corner at home was gone from this world, an impossible luxury for people who struggled just to survive.

"The last chocolate in Thunder Mountain was eaten on August 18, 1994," Markus said in a quiet, reverent murmur. "We now celebrate it as Chocolate Day, when we mourn the loss of candy from the old world."

Daniel shot him a look, wondering if he was kidding. But Markus' expression was serious, and he was watching his chocolate as if he expected it to dissolve into mist. Was there really such a holiday at Thunder Mountain? It sort of made sense that children would make a day of remembrance for when the candy went away…

But then he realized Markus was putting him on, when Kurdy burst into laughter. "You are so full of shit."

"Okay, it's not a holiday, but the date's right," Markus insisted. He bit off a corner, and leaned back, remembering. "It was my birthday. Sarah had been hoarding it for ages and gave it to me as a present. I gave away half but kept the other for myself. It lasted a month." He ate another corner, letting it dissolve slowly, his gaze distant. "I remember, it was at that party that I told everybody we were bringing new people inside. It wasn't a very popular decision, but I knew we had to grow. Simon backed me by volunteering to find some people we could trust."

Daniel glanced at Kurdy, who was listening avidly, his chocolate all but forgotten in his hand.

"You miss him, don't you?" Kurdy asked. "Simon, I mean."

Markus folded a piece of cloth from his pocket carefully around the remaining chocolate, mostly to avoid looking at them, Daniel thought. "He was my friend," Markus answered simply. "I don't have a lot of them. So yes, I miss him."

"I wish I'd known him better." Kurdy also put the rest of his chocolate away, treating it like blown glass. Daniel decided not to tell them that he had another bar in his pack. He'd save it for the celebration after the meeting and make them finish their portions, rather than rationing it out.

"He would have been glad to know Elizabeth is loved," Markus murmured. Surprised, Kurdy's gaze shot to meet his, read the truth of Markus' words, and a pure light of joy shimmered into being in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to.

The moment had been broken by the clicking of Daniel's radio, and then had shattered completely with the news they'd heard.

Daniel started to stand, to go over to Markus. But Kurdy shook his head, and Daniel decided he was right. It was probably better to let Markus sort it out himself.

This was bad news. The worst kind of news really -- Daniel had spoken to Markus enough to understand that he considered all the people in Thunder Mountain his responsibility. Finding out one of them had been killed was tough.

"I know her," Kurdy murmured, looking into the fire. "She was just a baby at the Big Death. Kate, her older sister, brought her inside a long time ago."

Daniel winced. Just a teenager, with so much to live for and a future that should be looking brighter. But now she had no future at all, because some traitor in the mountain had killed her.

Markus didn't turn back around, but he spoke loudly enough for them to hear. "Why Kristen?" he wondered aloud, not in grief but in puzzlement. He took a deep breath and turned around. His arms were folded and a small pained frown lingered, but he was already looking past his sorrow to the reason for it. "Kate's on the council. Did he want to hurt her, through Kristen? Or was there some other reason?"

"I'm sure Teal'c will help," Daniel offered. "He's had some experience with that sort of thing. Plus, his son Rya'c is a teenager, and Teal'c gets very angry when children are hurt. Well, we all do," he corrected himself, "but Teal'c won't stop until the murderer is hunted down."

"Erin will talk to him, I'm sure." Markus settled back into his place by the fire, taking out his chocolate and nibbling it as he fell into his thoughts.

"Are we going back?" Kurdy asked.

Markus shook his head. "No. If anything, this just makes St. Louis more important."

Silence fell, broken only by the noise of the breeze stirring the plants and the fire crackling. Kurdy broke up another branch and added pieces to the fire slowly, so it wouldn't smoke so much.

Daniel poured himself a cup of coffee. "I'll take first watch," he offered. "You two can get some sleep."

"First watch?" Markus repeated. "Daniel, we hardly need to worry about -- "

"I think it's a good idea," Kurdy interrupted, as if Markus hadn't said anything. "I'll take middle. And since I know Markus wakes up way too early anyway, he can take last. There, it's all settled. I'll get the tent and the bedrolls," Kurdy offered and went back to the car.

Daniel shot a glance at Markus, who was staring into the fire with his jaw clenched and his hands gripping his knees tightly, as if he was keeping back angry words. Daniel was thinking about what to say, when a bird suddenly squawked from the thicket behind them. Though the sound made Daniel start a little, Markus jumped and turned to look for what had made the noise, his eyes a little too wide.

The reaction betrayed that Markus was much more anxious and stressed than he was letting show. Making a mental note to tell Kurdy to back off a little, Daniel smiled. "It's a bird. Hopefully we won't get a confused one that chirps at three in the morning."

Settling back down, Markus let out a slow breath to try and calm down. "Right. Just a bird."

Kurdy came back with the tent and between the three of them, the green nylon 4-person dome was set up quickly. The sleeping bags were laid out and their supplies were locked in the car or with them in the tent. Daniel checked his sidearm and then bid the other two to go sleep. They all wished each other goodnight then Markus and Kurdy went in to sleep.

\---+---

Teal'c entered Markus' office and saw in a quick glance that only Erin was there. She smiled perfunctorily in greeting. "Teal'c, thank you for coming."

He inclined his head to her. He was determined to acquire more familiarity with Major Gant when SG-1 returned to their own universe. Like himself with Master Bra'tac and O'Neill, she had discovered a worthy leader to follow and put aside her own ambition to serve one wiser than herself. She had a true warrior's heart.

But that warrior heart was under strain. Her expression attempted to be neutral, but her eyes showed signs of fatigue, frustration and grief. To spare her the need to explain, he asked, "I presume this meeting has to do with the death of the young woman, Kristen?"

Erin nodded and sat down in one of the chairs at the round table, inviting Teal'c to do so also, with a gesture. She rubbed her face with her hands. "Yeah."

The door opened again, and the tall, pale-haired and pale-skinned woman named Sarah entered. "Erin?" Erin waved her inside.

"Shut the door behind you," Erin said, and Sarah did, with her foot. She was carrying a long, thin cardbox in her hands that she set on the table.

"Kate's going nuts," Erin told Sarah. "I just spent an hour trying to keep her from pinning it on Lee."

"Not that I blame her," Sarah sat down, "but isn't Lee about the only person in the mountain who _**isn't**_ a suspect?"

"Exactly," Erin let out a frustrated groan, and then raised her head to face the other two. "We three are going to find out who really killed Kristen."

Teal'c caught the deliberate use of 'killed'. "She was murdered?"

"We don't know that for sure," Sarah said, "but Markus thinks so."

Erin added in explanation, "It's hard for those metal boxes to fall on their own. We inspect them every three months."

"Perhaps the inspection was flawed," Teal'c suggested. Not that he believed it -- the timing of the discovery of the body not long after Markus had left suggested murder. But nor did he believe it was wise to close his eyes to possibilities.

"Maybe," Erin allowed. "We'll look into that. I have the last inspection report."

"Has the body been examined?" Teal'c asked. At the women's uncertain expressions, he elaborated, "The pattern and location of wounds might determine the cause of her death."

Erin and Sarah exchanged a glance. "I read a book where they did that," Sarah said slowly. "But nobody here knows enough. We've had only two other people die in here in the last ten years, and there was no question how it happened. I suppose we could ask Tess -- "

Teal'c interrupted her with a respectful nod, "If you will permit me to examine the young woman's body, I might have some success. I have some familiarity with injuries and death." He stated it simply, though his heart burned with shame. For his experience was not so much receiving injuries, but in giving them to others in his years of service to Apophis.

"You would?" Erin folded her hand and nodded. "I'll take whatever help you can give. When we're done here, I'll take you to Kate and we'll see if she'll let you. Meanwhile, you brought the records?" That last question was to Sarah.

She nodded and lifted off the lid to the box. "I'm more than a tour guide," she explained as an aside to Teal'c as she began lifting out batches of index cards and stacking them on the table. "I keep track of everyone who enters Thunder Mountain, when they arrived, special skills, that sort of thing. I've done it from the day we let the first person enter. There's a record in the computer as well -- but no one except Markus, and now you, know about the cards, so they can't be tampered with. When I told him the news, he said I should pull the cards for everyone starting a year before Lee came."

Teal'c nodded, gaining a new appreciation for these young people's foresight and diligence. They were more like young Jaffa here than young Tau'ri.

"Our pool of suspects," Erin said, looking at the cards with no little dismay. "There are so many."

"A few of these people left us, or died," Sarah straightened the cards into two stacks. "Some are gone on assignment as part of the transportation for St. Louis."

"A large number will still remain," Teal'c observed.

"Yeah," Sarah agreed. "I started just flipping through them, and I realized that I don't **know** most of the newcomers. I've met them all, but …" she shrugged.

"We'll go through them," Erin said, with a sigh.

"What is it you wished me to do?" Teal'c asked. He would be of little use going through the cards, since he knew few people in the mountain. To him, all were suspects.

"The cameras," Erin answered, and Teal'c nodded, understanding. Sarah glanced at her sharply in surprise -- one of those who did not know. "I have no idea how many are still recording," Erin said with a small shrug. "If any. Get Lee to talk you through it, if you need help. Hopefully you'll catch something. All we know is that Kristen was last seen at Markus' speech this morning and said she was going back to her room. Kate missed her at lunch, and sent some people to look. She was found on level 24, corridor 3B, beneath one of those big metal fan boxes, at one-thirty."

Teal'c frowned. Something did not sound right. "Why did no one find her earlier?"

Erin shook her head a little. "That section's not occupied. It's not locked down, but there's not much reason for most people to be there. There are hydroponics and storage there for the most part. Kristen worked hydroponics, so she **could** have been there legitimately, but Henri said she wasn't scheduled to be there today. Here's the key," she pushed O'Neill's master key across the table to him, which he took with a nod. "You know where it is."

However, he still had questions. "Is it possible that Kristen's death was in retaliation for something her sister Kate did or did not do?"

Erin thought about it, exchanged a glance with Sarah, then shrugged. "I suppose. It does seem strange -- Kate's not a big supporter of Markus' policy of going outside or confronting Valhalla Sector. So if the person who did it is our spy, I don't understand why he targeted Kate."

"Yet the timing is not coincidence," Teal'c suggested. "With Markus Alexander's departure, it seems a message."

He wondered if in fact, the killer had not struck in frustration when he realized that Markus Alexander was departing. If indeed that was what this was, then there was nothing connecting the child to her killer, and very little chance he could be caught.

Leaving Sarah in the office, Teal'c followed Erin to gain permission from Kate to look at her sister's body. He was concerned that her grief would prevent his examination, but it did not. After Erin explained what he wanted to do, Kate merely gave him a look from red-rimmed eyes. He returned her look steadily and said, "I do not know if I may discover something, but I will try, if you allow. I will only look." He knew Earth inspectors of the dead in his reality had to cut open the corpses, but he did not have the expertise to do that, nor did he think it was necessary. There was really only one thing he was looking for, and that should be easy enough to discover from the surface.

She hesitated and then nodded. "Okay, if you learn something to bring her killer to justice. I want to know it."

He nodded once. "I will inform you."

Erin then brought him to the cold room near the infirmary, where the young woman's body lay on a gurney covered by a white sheet. Both Erin and the lead doctor of the mountain, Tess, a dark-skinned woman who also sat on the council, entered with him, though they remained by the door while he approached the body.

It took only a few minutes for him to confirm what he had suspected all along. "She was murdered."

"How can you tell?" Erin asked.

He beckoned both to approach. "Here," he pointed to her throat. "These are caused by strangulation by hand. And this injury," he gently turned her again, to view the back of her head, "Bled and swelled. But the rest of these marks and injuries were caused after death."

Erin folded her arms. "So, she -- he -- "

Since she had trouble giving voice to it, he said for her, "I presume he struck her on the back of the head or perhaps threw her forcefully into a wall. When he realized she was not dead, he choked her. Then, in an attempt to cover what he had done, he placed her body beneath a heavy falling object."

The recital was blunt, he knew, but he was angry. This child had been near the age of Rya'c. She had been murdered, and the coward who murdered her still stalked the corridors of this base, uncaught and unpunished.

"She will have justice," he promised.

"Yes, she will," Erin agreed and reached out to touch Kristen's cold hand briefly. "Goodbye, Kristen," she whispered. "I hope you're in a better place now."

She turned and left, and Teal'c followed, ready and eager to begin his inspection of the security logs to discover the killer.

\---+---

Jack and Carter had barely gotten four steps from camp, when a voice called out.

"Don't bother. I'm back." There were sounds of someone approaching through the scrub and trees, and Jeremiah emerged into the clearing.

"Did you walk all the way into Lawrence?" Jack demanded. And if his tone was grouchy, who could blame him? He'd just gotten himself worked up into thinking the kid was getting himself killed, on the say-so of a nutcase, and here Jeremiah was waltzing back, without a care in the world.

Jeremiah shot him an irritated look. "No, just wanted to check with the locals about any large group, said I was looking for my sister."

"What did you find?" Carter asked, sitting back down by the fire.

"I ran into someone that mentioned a place about a half an hour from here. Sounds right, from what you've said: a big place, high security, and the people who come out of it are followers of 'their god Seth,'" He said the last with a scornful snort.

Jack nodded and sat down between Carter and Jeremiah. "Sounds like our friend, all right. Last time he had enough weapons to arm a platoon. We'll check it out in the morning."

Carter refilled her coffee from the pot sitting in the coals. "We talked to Markus while you were gone. There was an accident, or more likely, an act of sabotage at the mountain. Someone named Kristen died."

Jeremiah slowly pulled out his bedroll from his pack. "I know who she is. Was. She was just a kid."

Jack exchanged a glance with Carter. For Jeremiah to call someone a kid meant she had to be young. "A kid?"

"Yeah. About fifteen or sixteen I think." He threw the bedroll down on the ground and began pacing. "Damn it! How the hell can those bastards infiltrate us so easily?" He kicked at the dirt sending pieces flying. "Lee can't be the only one."

"Nope," Jack agreed, and added, to try to calm his young friend's nerves, "Teal'c has a radio, as does Daniel. They'll let us know if anything else happens."

"Is Markus still going to St. Louis?" Jeremiah asked.

"Far as we know," Jack answered.

"But that's just suicide," Jeremiah complained in frustration. "If there is a spy in the mountain -- **another** spy, I mean -- then they're walking right into a trap! I can't believe he's doing this!" He thought about it for a second and then amended, "I can't believe Kurdy's letting him do this."

Jack remembered Mister Smith's warning, and realized he now believed it. But the question remained, which friend? Were Daniel and Markus walking into a trap? Or was Teal'c and everyone else at Cheyenne in danger from the sleeper agent?

Carter smiled. "Kurdy's tough, but I think he'd have quite a fight on his hands if he tried to stop Markus. But really, we don't know what they're intending to do. Markus was upset -- he might go back to Cheyenne, I don't know."

"Yeah, we'll see." Jeremiah did a bit more pacing then reluctantly sat on his bedroll. He brought out a pencil and some paper and began writing.

"What 'cha doing?" Jack asked, peering curiously over at him.

"I'm writing my dad," Jeremiah muttered without looking up.

Jack presumed he meant as some sort of journal, since he doubted there was mail delivery to Valhalla Sector. Jeremiah spent almost thirty minutes, writing on a small piece of paper and then, surprisingly, he folded it up and tossed it into the fire. It looked to be an old ritual. "Why in the fire?" Jack asked, wondering.

Jeremiah watched the paper burn. "For a long time, I didn't know if my dad was alive or dead. It probably sounds stupid to you, but I thought that if my dad was in heaven he could read my letters."

Jack's throat closed up. He couldn't speak. It was a way for the child to deal with his grief, yet keep a part of his father alive. Charlie's bright face rose in Jack's mind. He could see his son bent over some paper doing his homework at the kitchen table. "No, I don't think it sounds stupid at all," his voice hitched on the words. "You think it works for sons?"

Jeremiah looked startled. "You have a son that died?"

He nodded. He was aware of Carter, not far away, pretending to be fascinated by the sky. But at that moment, he didn't care. "Almost ten years ago," he murmured, hardly able to believe that it had been that long. "His birthday's next month. He'd be turning eighteen."

Eighteen. But Charlie had never gone through the trials of being a teenager, never had to worry about college, or getting his driving license. He had never even gone to fourth grade. And why, after so long, did it still hurt so much?

Jeremiah handed him his pencil and a sheet of paper.

Jack started writing. 'Dear Charlie. I miss you.' Then he couldn't think of what else to say.

"It gets easier," Jeremiah told him, breaking into his thoughts. "I had a rough time at the beginning, too. There's so much to say, but you have no idea where to begin. Now I just tell my dad what I did that day. That I miss him, and anything that he might find funny." Jeremiah shrugged his shoulders. "Then I go to sleep."

As good as his word, Jeremiah bunched his coat under his head and closed his eyes. Jack couldn't even look at Carter. He was filled with emotions, feelings that he wanted to share only with Charlie. So, he continued writing.

\---+---

Daniel sipped his coffee by the fire, and took out his journal, keeping an ear out for sounds which didn't belong. Very soon he heard light snoring from one of his companions and smiled. It had been a long day for everyone.

But after about fifteen minutes, he heard rustling inside the tent. Then it got quiet again, except for the crackle of the fire and the wind in the branches and dead grass.

A little while later, there were more restless sounds and Daniel was not at all surprised when Markus emerged from the tent, dragging his blanket with him around his shoulders.

"You should sleep," Daniel advised softly.

Markus shook his head and settled on the ground, with his back to a large branch and his knees drawn up. "Can't. You might as well go rest, Daniel."

Daniel watched him for a moment. Markus watched the flames with an intense focus, likely brooding on a murderer in the mountain-- or the meeting. Tomorrow marked the beginning of what Markus hoped would be the beginning of seeing his vision become reality, but also what he must fear would be a disaster. No wonder he couldn't sleep, with all that weighing on him.

"It's going to be fine, Markus," Daniel reassured him. "Erin and Teal'c will find the traitor. And the meeting's going to go well. After all, if they're coming at all, they must want to hear what you have to say."

"It's not Kristen, or the meeting," he said and added more honestly, "Well, yes, partly." He paused, weighing his words. "You see, I'm used to the mountain. I can recognize every sound, every creak, every groan in the duct system. But out here," he paused again, tilting his head and looking up at the sky. "Out here, all the sounds are so random, I find myself trying to identify them, and categorize them, anything to make them seem more familiar. But I just can't ignore them." There was a slight tremor in his voice.

Daniel followed his gaze. It was a clear night, with the stars very vivid. Looking out at the familiar night sky always reminded Daniel that he was home. Many other planets were very Earth-like, but then the night sky would prove that he was somewhere else, very far away. Here, the stars were familiar, but he still wasn't home. Nonetheless, it was comforting.

"It's so big," Markus murmured after a little while. Daniel wasn't sure he was talking about the sky, the area around him, or the challenges he was facing. Maybe all three. The young leader had wrapped his arms around himself, in a self-protecting hug that Daniel knew well.

"When I was little, I used to love being outside at night. Up there," Markus pointed at a particular constellation, "is Cygnus X-1. You can't see it, but it's the closest black hole to Earth -- at least that we knew about in '89. I wanted to study it. But then, the Big Death hit… " He paused and lowered his head, to look back into the fire. "Everything changed. Even the sky is so different than I remember." He trailed off with a shiver, twitching when the tree creaked behind him.

Daniel knew that he was always a little disoriented when he came outside after spending a lot of time in the SGC. Markus had spent the last fifteen years underground. No wonder he was on edge, out here with strange sounds and too much open space.

But he needed sleep. He was already looking drawn with exhaustion, from far too many days of going to bed late, getting up early, and worrying about too many things. Daniel cast around, trying to come up with something that might help. "Do you think you could sleep on the back seat of the car?" he suggested. "It might be cramped, but at least it would be more sheltered."

The relief on Markus' face was all the reward that Daniel needed. "Yes, thank you, Daniel. That might work." He stood, with a self-deprecating little smile. "I'm really not cut out for camping."

"Try to get some sleep," Daniel urged him and watched as Markus pulled his sleeping bag out of the tent and set up in the back seat of the car. The car door closed and the camp was quiet again.


	10. Chapter 10

**March 20**

The night had been cold. But as the sun rose, the frost melted, and Sam began to feel optimistic about finding Seth. The colonel had made coffee, and for breakfast they ate some of the MRE's from the packs.

They broke camp. After a short drive, Jeremiah pulled off on a dirt road. They hid the jeep under the camo net and continued on foot. After traversing several cornfields, trudging through mud and stones, they came to a tall fence. Inside, there was a vast, flat field -- what had probably once been a manicured lawn and playing fields, if the one rusted baseball backstop was anything to go by. About a thousand feet inside the fence was a sprawling complex. The central portion was six stories high. Off to each side the building branched out to form a totally enclosed courtyard. To the north, a large barn or shed had been erected.

"It looks like a prison," Sam observed aloud.

Jeremiah muttered, "An occupied prison." He gestured against the fence. "It's all been cut."

She nodded. He was right. Not only had the grass been cut, but it had all been trampled flat closer to the building.

"It's a correctional facility for minors," O'Neill corrected. "It was called Industry. Sarah taught here while I was stationed at Leavenworth."

Sam asked, wishing he'd mentioned this before, "You were at Leavenworth?"

"Only a year," he replied then looked back across the large yard. "I can understand why Seth would choose this place. Not only does it have bedrooms and kitchens, but it also has bars on the windows and heavy-duty locks. Seth would look for someplace secure but with all the comforts of home."

"So, you're sure this is the place we're looking for?" Jeremiah asked, doubtfully.

"Well, it agrees with my data," Sam acknowledged as she gazed at her notes.

"I don't have bolt cutters, so how're we going to get in?" Jeremiah asked as he gave a few tugs on the heavy-duty fence.

The colonel pulled out a pair of binoculars and looked around. "I don't see any guards or cameras, but I don't like this open field. No place to hide or run if we're seen."

"Can't we pretend to be converts?" Jeremiah asked, "and just walk in?"

Sam exchanged a glance with O'Neill. "It won't be easy," she reflected. "Seth can feel me, as I can feel him."

"He's got this nasty drug that makes you love and worship him," O'Neill added, giving an exaggerated shudder for Jeremiah's benefit.

"But a zat blast destroys the drug's effect," Sam countered. "Plus, in this reality, these kids have no place to go. They may not need the drug to stay."

"You and Jeremiah waltz in," O'Neill thought aloud. "Seth zaps you or not, depending on how convincing you are and how suspicious a bastard he is. You radio me if you're safe, if not, I bust in and zat everyone I can see. I'll get caught, but you'll rescue me." O'Neill looked at Sam as he rattled off the plan. "While we're in, we search for naquadah. Piece of cake."

Sam smiled at the audacity of the "plan" but since it matched pretty well with her own, she didn't say anything.

Jeremiah snorted in disbelief but he went along with a shrug. Sam had the feeling he'd done things just as spontaneously.

They back-tracked to the hedgerow, at the edge of the last field they had crossed. She took off her pack and began rummaging through it.

"What are you looking for?" Jeremiah asked, curiously.

"We have small communication devices that fit in our ear. We can't take any of my gear inside the compound so the only thing I can use to keep in contact with the colonel is the small radio." Her hand came out clutching something. She slid the small device in her ear. "Can you hear me, colonel?"

O'Neill laughed. "Loud and clear, Carter."

"I meant on your radio." she replied, exasperated.

"There, too." While she was putting her pack in order again, he added thoughtfully, "Back in our reality, Seth had escape tunnels. Didn't Teal'c say that it's a requirement of all paranoid, megalomaniac Goa'ulds? What do you want to bet Seth's got one here?"

She stood up, feeling a little more enthusiastic about this plan. "Maybe we can even use it to get out. The last time he had a ring transporter from his throne room to his escape tunnel. We'll have to look for one."

"They are creatures of habit." O'Neill bent closer to Jeremiah, warning, "And I mean 'creatures' in the nastiest way possible."

"Come on," Sam urged, tugging on Jeremiah's arm, before the colonel succeeded in frightening the guy too much. "Let's go knock on the front door."

\---+---

Jack felt Charlie poke him in the side. "Get up, we've got company."

Jack rose, his back aching from the deformed cot. He glanced over at Chen who was up and alert, showing no ill effects from the bumpy cot. Oh, to be young, Jack moaned to himself

The door was open, and outside Murray was talking to the young guard. Did the poor kid have to do sentry duty all night? Did they think two old men could break through solid steel bars? Or maybe it was Lee they were worried about, seeing as he had been chief of security.

Murray regally nodded, then entered, closing the door behind him. Jack heard the lock click into place. The large man's face was passive, but Jack could detect a hardness that had been absent the day before. "Something happen?" he asked, watching closely.

"Yes," Murray answered, but turned his attention to Lee. "A girl has been killed. Despite attempts to make it appear an accident, it was clearly murder."

"Who?" Lee asked, his voice cracked.

"Kristen. I believe she is the sister of a council member," Murray responded.

Lee collapsed onto his cot. "Kate," he whispered.

"You were correct when you mentioned the possibility of another spy within Cheyenne Mountain."

Jack stiffened. Cheyenne Mountain? Seemed strange to hear it called that again. He filed it away to consider later, for now he needed to know what had happened.

"I didn't want to be right," Lee said without any sarcasm. "What do you want me to do?"

"Erin Gant is of the belief that while you cannot be fully trusted, you may be of help in identifying the person responsible."

Jack started to think. The probability of Lee knowing the identity of this mysterious agent was remote. Wouldn't he have already seen and identified him? Simmons was much too crafty to put someone here who Lee would recognize. But Jack might. He'd spent time outside Valhalla Sector, in their various towns and bases. Did he want to help Thunder Mountain? Work against his home? Was Valhalla Sector his home, or just a place to sleep because the world had died?

Jack fidgeted on the cot, reluctant to make a decision.

"Have the cameras been turned off?" Murray inquired of Lee.

"How would I know? I got thrown in here, before I could do anything."

Murray didn't react to the bitter comment. "Were all of them operational?"

"No. When they broke I didn't do anything to fix them. It was hard to ask for help when they weren't supposed to be working in the first place, and I didn't know how to do it myself."

Murray nodded once, accepting the explanation. "Erin Gant is perusing personnel files hoping for inspiration, but I believe the cameras will give a more definitive answer. Do you think you would recognize this other agent?"

Jack winced, knowing how that comment would cut Lee. Even he felt its sting. He almost felt guilty for being from Valhalla, yet what choice did he have? The military stuck together, yet he couldn't condone the killing of innocent kids. It was just wrong.

"Are you going to let me go through the tapes?" Lee asked. "Where did it happen?"

"Level 24. Corridor 3B. Her body was found yesterday at 1:30 in the afternoon."

"How come you're coming to me so late?" Lee demanded, going to the front of his cell.

"I have gone through the tapes myself, but could not find one to represent the area in question. It now makes sense if that particular camera is broken."

"So, she was found just a few hours after Markus left," Jack interjected, making everyone look at him. "What if she heard the spy tell Valhalla he was going to leave? It would be something Simmons and the general would want to know immediately."

Murray gave him that regal nod. "That would be a likely explanation; however, Markus Alexander isolated the communications system at 0200 the night before."

"Oh." Jack thought about it some more then shrugged. "The spy might not have known that and tried anyway."

Jack began to think he should have kept his mouth quiet as Murray stared at him. The big man didn't blink, didn't move, just kept up that same steady stare. Jack began to get nervous. Could Murray really read his mind and was waiting for Jack to volunteer to help?

The tension mounted in the room, until even Lee began to feel it.

"What?" Lee asked, puzzled. "Will you let me help?" he asked again.

"If you recognized someone walking around from Valhalla, you'd have said something before, wouldn't you, Chen?" Kawalsky asked, echoing Jack's earlier thought.

Lee nodded, and grasped the bars in front of him. "But I'd know if people are where they should be. I could still help," he looked up at Murray. "C'mon, this is the sort of thing you need me for."

"You will have your chance to prove your loyalties, Lee Chen," Murray said. Jack wasn't sure if it was a promise or a threat coming from that calm, deep voice.

Kawalsky persisted in his original idea, "We might be able to identify the other spy. If he's from Valhalla or Millhaven, and especially if he's in the military, we'd recognize him. I'd be willing to take a look."

Murray inclined his head. "Thank you, Major Kawalsky, for your offer. I never had the chance to get to know you, but your deep friendship with O'Neill speaks highly of your courage and honor."

Jack almost choked at the unexpected compliment. Charlie did gag, then laughed. Jack smacked him hard on the back.

Murray ignored their antics. "I will clear this with Erin Gant first. Then I will return." He knocked on the outer door and the sentry let him out.

\---+---

Sam and Jeremiah halted. Up ahead they could see a driveway and a guardhouse for the gate. There were two men, both armed, standing just outside. The fence line here was closer to the large building, but not enough to be able to make it to the structure unseen. The lack of cover was frustrating, but not unexpected. She signaled to the colonel. "We're here."

"'Bout time," he replied. "I'm watching you from here. Keep the mic on and I'll listen as you make contact."

"Roger." She turned and began walking toward the guards.

"Let me do the talking," Jeremiah insisted as walked beside her. "As soon as you open your mouth they'll know you're different."

Sam was reluctant to agree. Jeremiah might know the times, but he knew nothing of the Goa'uld.

He added, "And when they ask you your name, don't mention your last name. No one on the outside uses two names. Some of us remember them, but Markus is the only person I know who uses it."

"What about Lee Chen?"

"He's a spy, so he doesn't count."

She gave in, realizing he was right. She would have given her last name too, and that was the sort of mis-step that could get them both killed. Better to act young and stupid, and let Jeremiah talk.

"Halt!" the guard shouted, jogging up to them as they approached.

"We've been walking forever," Jeremiah told them, sounding very weary. "I hope you're the ones we're looking for."

The second guard joined the first and both looked unconvinced.

Jeremiah continued, not seeming fazed by their belligerence. "We were down south and met this guy Simon. He told us he knew a woman in Deer Springs who talked of this place, and of a beautiful, wonderful leader who was able to feed and keep everyone safe. My sister Sam," he pointed to her, "said we ought to try and find it. We lost our home about two years ago to a bunch of skinheads. We had cows and chickens, and lived pretty good. But now... we don't know where else to go."

The guards noticeably relaxed. "Our lord welcomes true believers and he demands total commitment to his ideals. What's your name?"

"Jeremiah."

"Let me radio the office. Seth will send out an escort."

Sam only let a little of her elation show on her face. This was Seth's compound; now they only needed to find the naquadah.

"Sam, this is going to be our new home," Jeremiah told her with a condescending tone and a straight face. He was talking to her as if she didn't have a brain in her head. Part of her wanted to straighten him out, but the soldier part understood that having these people underestimate her abilities would work in their favor.

"Do you have apples?" she asked the guards, playing up her part.

They smiled at her. One used the radio and the other answered her, "Yes, we have many kinds of food. Are you hungry?"

Sam made her eyes grow round. "Oh, yes." And she was. Breakfast had been hours ago.

The guards led them through the gate, where they waited for their transportation. Sam watched the guards, noting their weapons, and wondered how she could explain her naquadah signature. Maybe a Goa'uld attack. Seth might be worried if he believed she had been infected by another Goa'uld. She could even mention Ra. It would certainly entertain her, and probably frighten him.

Finally a surprisingly clean, white pickup truck came rumbling down the long driveway. The back had several bales of straw. The front bench seat held two men. Looked like she and Jeremiah would be riding with the straw.

Jeremiah helped her up into the back and both sat down. Sam clutched her small radio in her hand, knowing the colonel was hearing everything that was said.

Once they arrived at the front door, the guard from the passenger side got out and helped them out of the back. The driver drove on, either to park or on another errand.

"Come with me. My name is William."

Sam estimated William to be around twenty-five. He had large muscles, a deep tan, and callused hands. No soft life for him.

The big door opened and inside there were more men, also armed, and not looking pleased to see them.

Sam and Jeremiah were escorted up several flights of stairs to a community shower.

Sam balked at the door. "What is this?"

"You must clean yourself and wear our lord's clothes," William explained. "He will not keep company with filth."

Sam and Jeremiah exchanged a glance, and with a half-shrug, Jeremiah pulled his shirt over his head. More reluctantly Sam followed suit. At first she held the ear-piece in her hand, but it would be impossible to hold it and wash without its being seen. So, faking a cough, she put it in her mouth and hoped it would survive.

The guards didn't look away. She turned her back as much as she could, but washing was still totally embarrassing with the guards watching, and in front of Jeremiah. But at least Jeremiah wasn't leering.

Sam's new outfit consisted solely of a dress. It was beige in color, cotton, floor-length, and shapeless, except for the fabric belt she tied around her waist. No underwear and no shoes. She tried to put her underwear back on, but it was already taken away. She hoped they were going to burn it, not take it to show Seth.

Last she spat out the radio and dropped it down her open neck to lodge at her waist. At least the utilitarian clothes made hiding the radio easier.

Jeremiah had on a T-shirt, work pants. She was jealous that he got to keep his boots.

The guards escorted them to Seth.

The Goa'uld's quarters were opulent, but relatively small. Oriental rugs were placed strategically on a hard-wood floor. Paintings of the Old West, of Indians and cowboys, with buffaloes on the run, decorated the walls, but she sensed no ring platform.

"Come in, my children. Welcome."

The modulated tones of a Goa'uld sent a reflexive shiver down her back, as she lifted her gaze.

He appeared to be reading to several children clustered at his feet, and petting a cat curled on his lap. He was a different host than she had seen before. This one was younger, though still old enough to have survived the Big Death. His black hair was cut short and he was clean-shaven, the better to show off his classically carved features. He also had the most penetrating black eyes she'd ever seen.

She had to swallow. This host was definitely better-looking, with that same magnetism that the Goa'uld could wield so effortlessly if they chose. Her gaze threatened to stray, to check the fit of his shirt and pants, and she kept focused on his face, appalled by her own reaction.

He was a Goa'uld. His host might be attractive, but the being within would squash her in an instant without any remorse.

He slowly bookmarked his place and closed the book, pushing the cat off. The children groaned good-naturedly, but he assured them he'd continue in a few moments.

Sam took that as a good omen. He wasn't planning on an in-depth grilling. Jeremiah took her hand and led them toward Seth. "We wish to join your home," Jeremiah spoke out, sounding convincing.

Seth barely glanced at Jeremiah. His gaze zeroed in on Sam, as he must have felt the naquadah in her blood.

"Come here, girl," he ordered, his body language telegraphing his unease. He was wearing a ribbon device on his left hand, and it glittered as he gestured her nearer.

Taking a deep breath, and emptying her mind of everything except her cover story, she gave him a tentative smile and knelt before him. "Yes, sir?" Sam inquired with an innocent gaze.

"You are older then the rest."

"Yes. I didn't die," Sam answered simply.

He prompted, "And how is it you lived?"

"When the Big Death came, our city was attacked by men in armor. They came and," Sam shuddered, "took me and put a snake in me. I was smart, but he did something, to make me behave, he said. I wasn't good. I thought he was the Big Death, cause they killed mommy and daddy. Then everyone was dead, except me and Jeremiah. I was so afraid…" Jeremiah put a hand on her shoulder and she leaned into him gratefully, huddling under his arm and trying to look pathetic and dumb.

"What was the name of the one who took you?"

"Tanith," Sam replied. "But he's dead now. Ra didn't like him." Sam took pleasure in the shudder that went through Seth. She gave him just enough fact to make her lie convincing. Maybe he wouldn't use the nishta on them.

"Who was Tanith loyal to?"

Sam wasn't sure an answer would help or hinder their position. But he kept staring at her. He leaned forward and placed a hand on her head to stroke her hair, as if trying to coax an answer from her, but Sam wasn't fooled. She used every ounce of self-control to keep her revulsion hidden.

"Tell me!" he commanded again, his hand tightening on her hair, pulling it sharply.

"I don't know. Ra didn't trust him. Sometimes at night, he made me go outside and talk into this silver ball called Apophis."

Seth let go of her hair and sat back once more. "William, see that they are given a room. And Sam, you shouldn't hate Tanith so much, he saved your life. If he hadn't joined with you, you would be dead."

Sam swallowed thickly. Some of her feelings had leaked through despite trying to suppress them.

"Wait, Sam," he called as they reached the door. "Can you tell me where they are now?"

She tried to hide her confusion. But, without success, so she decided to use it. "I don't know," she said truthfully. "They took everything and left. It was a long time ago."

"Why didn't Ra keep you and Jeremiah?"

"Jeremiah hid. They didn't know about him. Ra wanted Tanith dead. I was left for dead. But Tanith came out, when he saw Jeremiah come up to me. He didn't notice Sandy, our dog. Tanith attacked Jeremiah, but Sandy caught it and ate it." She hid a smile when she saw Seth twitch at a symbiote being a dog's lunch. Too bad there were no dogs here, just the black cat who had curled up by the hearth.

"We will talk again," he promised ominously. "You may go."

William led them out of the room and down a maze of halls. As they passed a window, Sam looked out and saw rows of men doing marching drills in the central courtyard. It reminded her of the Academy. These men were going through a similar regimen.

Jeremiah noticed that she had stopped. William looked out and explained. "Seth is very patient. There are heathens outside our walls that don't understand that Seth is our god. Some attack us for our resources; these we crush instantly. But, in the future, when there are more of us, we will spread the word of Seth so all will understand and it will unite the country, and then the world," he said with a fanatical look to his eye.

Jeremiah looked out at the men training then turned to William. "There's not enough men to--"

"That is why we must all be patient. It may not happen in our lifetime, but Seth will live on and show the new generations the way."

"Is that the reason his voice sounds so weird, 'cause he's a god?" Jeremiah asked.

"His voice is strong, powerful. You shouldn't expect a god to sound like us. He is also much stronger and he never grows old. He has looked the same since the Big Death."

Sam could see Jeremiah shudder. He hadn't really believed her briefing yesterday on the evil of the Goa'uld, but now he was beginning to understand.

William gave them a smile and headed again down the hall to their room. At least they wouldn't be split up.

"Am I going to have to train?"

"Not yet. You must prove yourself worthy first. Only the most devoted can serve."

Sam met Jeremiah's eyes, hoping to convey support and assurance that they would get out of here alive.

"Here is your room, Jeremiah," William announced, stopping and opening a door. "Sam will share with you," he added giving her a close look. "For now."

Sam felt uneasy under his appraisal. What was he looking for?

William walked over to a closet. "There are more clothes inside. The bathroom is down the hall; you'll find towels, soap and brushes. You are to keep yourself clean." He motioned to Jeremiah. "You come with me. We'll see what chores you're fit to do. Sam, Sherry will come for you shortly and take you down to the kitchen. They'll find a job for you there."

Sam nodded meekly as they left. There wouldn't be much time, so she tried the radio. Luckily it still worked, so she let the colonel know that they were all right, had successfully met Seth and were still nishta free.

\---+---

Jack lowered his binoculars, relieved after Carter's last call in. It was a miracle that the receiver worked inside. He had worried that the thick walls would prevent the signal from traveling through it.

Jack dusted his pants and went to hide their packs more securely. If he was going to be hiking all day looking for an escape hatch, he wasn't going to lug all their stuff with him. Going back to the edge of the field, he maneuvered the packs under some rocks and strategically placed broken branches and dead corn stalks to help disguise the mound.

As Jack positioned the last stalk, he realized that the field had actually been in use during the past summer. Was Seth the one planting? It made Jack begin thinking about what it was really like for these kids to grow up without parents, without the conveniences of home--like a grocery store--and survive. How did they do it?

With a deep sigh, he made himself forget their hardships and begin thinking about the current mission. He had to concentrate on finding a way into the Goa'uld stronghold. Sara had taught at the school, and while he hadn't gone inside, he did remember her telling him about a huge walk-in fridge and pantry located in the basement, directly beneath the kitchen. There was even a dumb-waiter so they could transport the food up faster to be cooked. The kitchen had to be on the ground floor somewhere. But, was it in the main part or in one of the other sides of the big square?

If he could locate the kitchen, then he'd know where the basement was, and he bet dollars to donuts there was a tunnel leading out from there.

\---+---

Teal'c obtained permission from Erin to bring one of the prisoners to the security room. So, now on his way back to the brig, Teal'c had to decide which man to take. Kawalsky had volunteered, but Teal'c instinctively trusted O'Neill more. Teal'c halted his thoughts. This was not his O'Neill; he shouldn't trust him at all. He would bring Major Kawalsky. Assured that he had made the correct decision, he strode purposefully down the hall, causing his newly appointed guard to jog in order to keep up with him.

Kawalsky was sitting on the floor trying to catch the ball as O'Neill bounced it over his head. Both stiffened and Kawalsky rose as Teal'c entered.

"Erin Gant has given me permission to bring one of you to the security room to view the tapes. Major Kawalsky, since you volunteered, I have selected you."

The guard opened the door, and Teal'c waited for O'Neill to try and break out, but he stayed still. Teal'c gave him a nod and escorted Kawalsky out.

"So what exactly do you want me to do?" the major asked as they left the brig and headed down the hall.

"Thunder Mountain has surveillance cameras set up in different areas. Lee Chen has said that some work while others do not. I have organized the tapes that were recorded yesterday and we shall watch them. If you recognize anyone, please identify them."

Teal'c wasn't sure if Major Kawalsky would tell him the truth, but even a slight reaction might be enough for Teal'c to begin his investigation.

When they entered, Teal'c opened the door and ushered the major in.

"How long have you been at Thunder Mountain?" Kawalsky asked, as Teal'c booted up the first tape.

"Several days. I have been most impressed with Markus Alexander. Many in power become corrupt even when they begin with an honorable ideal. He has not."

Kawalsky slid into the chair next to Teal'c. "Right, the false god lecture."

Teal'c's eyebrow rose, but he declined to comment. The first tape began and both men turned to view it, although Teal'c kept most of his attention on Kawalsky. It was the speech Markus had given before leaving. Teal'c purposely had picked this one, because he was interested in the other man's reaction. If he was pretending compliance and intended trickery, boredom or hostility would be evident. As the tape continued, Kawalsky sat straighter in his chair, his body completely stationary, listening and watching.

"You need to peruse the audience," Teal'c gently reminded, not at all upset that Kawalsky had forgotten their purpose.

"Right," he responded, his body relaxing, his eyes moving over the screen.

The speech ended and people began milling about. "Do you recognize anyone?"

"No. Sorry."

Teal'c put in the next tape. This one was in a hall, near where the population had emptied after the speech. In the SGC, the camera showed the blast doors, ready to close in case of an unwelcome intruder.

"Wait, stop the tape!" Kawalsky commanded.

Teal's stopped and started it again.

Kawalsky pointed. "Look at the time stamp. Markus is still talking, but there's someone leaving. The person is too far away from the camera, but why would anyone leave while he's still talking? No one's noticed. If you look at the people he's passing, they don't even acknowledge his presence. No smile, no puzzled look."

Teal'c indeed saw the same thing. "He is known to those around him."

"Yeah, but not well. They'd smile at him if he were their friend. Go back to the beginning, see if he's standing with someone."

Teal'c complied, but from their view, it appeared that the man was alone. His face was not shown clearly, for another person stood between him and the camera's view. Yet, it was clear that he was in his twenties, fair skinned, brown hair, and relatively tall. When he turned to leave, his back was presented to the camera, so even if Teal'c were able to enhance the tape, it would not yield any more information.

"Now, I'm not saying that this is the guy, but his leaving is suspicious."

"I concur. We will continue watching and see if a better view presents itself."

After three more tapes, they were no closer to learning the identity of the murderer than before.

"Sorry, I couldn't help more," Kawalsky sounded sincerely regretful.

"I will show what you have pointed out to Erin Gant. She may recognize him or those around him. They may be able to remember who the man is."

"So, it's back to prison for me?"

"Yes. If there is an agent here from Valhalla Sector, and they recognize you, there is a chance you may…" Teal'c paused as another thought hit him, "be in danger," he finished slowly. There was no doubt that the agent had seen O'Neill, Colonel O'Neill. Was it possible he would try to contact these two, or would he prefer to silence them instead?

\---+---

William left Jeremiah in the hall, in the presence of two strapping guards. Jeremiah tried conversation but was met with stony silence. They wouldn't even dignify him with a look. Soon another man came to the hall and escorted him outside. They were on the opposite side to the one where they had first approached, but Jeremiah prevented himself from looking around for Jack.

"Can you paint?" the man asked as they walked across the lawn.

"A picture?" has asked incredulously.

"No, the shed. We can't spare the people now, for they're getting the seeds ready for planting. But, the paint is peeling, and we have many cans of paint stored."

Inside the shed was a workbench with numerous tools, both garden and mechanical, hanging on the walls. Several shelving units were against the wall, and on one were over a dozen cans of white paint. Several brushes of various sizes were next to the cans.

"No problem," Jeremiah answered. "This I can handle."

He was rewarded with a smile. "Then I'll leave you to it."

Jeremiah went back outside to see how dirty the building's sides were, and was surprised to see that they had been sanded and cleaned. A young boy, no more than nine, stood waiting to be noticed.

"Hello, I'm Jeremiah," he said to the boy.

"I'm Fetch. It's my job to run into the house and get you something to drink or eat as you work."

"Isn't Fetch your job, not your name?"

The boy scratched his head. "Nobody ever called me anything else."

"Well, Fetch, I'd love some help. Come on in."

They entered the shed and Jeremiah brought down one of the cans of paint and a brush. "Can you carry these outside while I get the ladder and find a stirrer?"

"Sure, Jeremiah." The boy eagerly took the can, struggling a bit with the weight, but proudly half-dragged it outside.

Jeremiah found the ladder, and realized there were strange markings on the floor. Most of it was covered with rags and some straw, but they looked like concentric circles drawn onto the cement floor. A shiver of distaste ran down his back as he imagined sacrifices to Seth or some other creepy ritual being performed out here. Maybe staying inside the shed wasn't the greatest idea, as he quickly walked out. The sunlight was better.

Soon the boy's chatter and the rhythmic motion of painting made him forget about the eerie thoughts he had had inside. Fetch never stopped talking. He described the old cow, that continually broke the fence and he was always the one who had to "fetch" her. His most interesting topic was Seth.

"Seth loves all us kids. We get to eat with him and during worship, he likes us to be around his feet. The girls are all ga-ga over him, waiting for their turn in his bed."

"What?" Jeremiah asked, startled.

"He loves us all, so we have to take turns. But at night, only the females get to sleep with him. Girls have to be fourteen, and until then, they're treated the same as us boys. But after dinner, the older girls have to give him his bath and then he chooses which one gets to stay. The others come out and get to pick where they sleep. None of the girls have their own room, only us boys," he said proudly. "But they get to pick where they want to sleep each night. Sometimes they're boring and stay in the same room, night after night, but usually they change."

"And the kids?"

"We have our own room, where we share. Seth says it's a life long pajama party. Do you know what a pajama is?"

"They were the clothes you wore when you went to bed."

"Oh. We don't wear clothes to bed. They're dirty and only clean bodies get in the sheets. It's a rule. We all bathe before bed. Cleanliness is next to godliness. That's what Seth says."

"Is he a god?"

"Of course," Fetch answered very earnestly. "He doesn't grow old and he's the smartest one of all. And the girls say he's gorgeous."

"What about your mother?"

"Mother? What's that?"

Jeremiah was shocked. "You know. The woman who gave birth to you."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know. We all take care of each other. The women take care of all kids. Not just one."

"What about a father?"

"Seth is our father."

Jeremiah hoped he couldn't take that literally. There had to be a hundred kids running around. He'd heard babies crying, and seen more than a handful of heavily pregnant women at lunch. How could Seth be the father of all if the women were sleeping with whoever took their fancy?

He remembered what William had said about building Seth's power and he got very cold, despite the bright sun.

Seth was breeding an army.


	11. Chapter 11

**March 20**

About twenty miles outside of St. Louis, snow began falling. Luckily it was little more than a flurry, quickly passing, but enough to stick on the cold roads. Their pace slowed, more because the snow might cover other road hazards than because of the thin covering. But when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, the blanket of white was dazzling. As they approached the city, Daniel caught a few glimpses of the arch as it glimmered. Here, there were no snow crews, so the roads weren't cleared, and Daniel didn't see a single sidewalk or driveway shoveled. The only signs of life at all were some wisps of smoke in the distance and the tire tracks in the snow on the road.

Kurdy had the wheel again, while Daniel sat in front to navigate from the map. Markus had taken out his speech about ten in the morning, when they'd switched places, and Daniel hadn't found the courage to tell him to put it away. He knew how nervous _**he'd**_ gotten, preparing speeches for interstellar dignitaries, and this meeting was far more personally important to Markus than anything Daniel had been involved with.

But still, Daniel felt Markus was putting unnecessary pressure on himself to be perfect. Daniel just wished he could find the right words to explain this without sounding condescending.

Finally Kurdy'd had enough. "Markus, if it ain't done by now, it's too late. We're almost there. Put it away. You're outside that hole in the ground, and you should look around."

After a moment, Markus replied quietly, "You're right, Kurdy."

When Daniel glanced back, Markus was looking out the window, but his brow was furrowed. Daniel doubted he saw much of the city at all.

A glint of sunlight on metal was the only warning as a car pulled in behind them. They were following very closely. Daniel felt a cold weight settle in his stomach, as it suddenly hit home that he had, more or less, volunteered for the local Secret Service. His right hand fumbled in the door pocket for his sidearm and drew it out to hold on his lap, above the map. His thumb felt for the safety, ready to flick it to the firing position.

"Shit," Kurdy swore under his breath. "Is it one of ours?"

Daniel turned around, but the glare on the windshield behind them made it impossible to see the driver. "Can't tell."

Markus also turned. "Kurdy, stop the car," he said.

"That's not a good idea -- "

"Stop the car," Markus demanded, less patiently. "I doubt Valhalla Sector would just sit on our tail quietly."

In ironic mockery, the car behind them suddenly honked its horn loudly twice.

Kurdy slowed to a stop. "Okay, we're stopped. But let Daniel and me see who -- "

Markus opened the door and got out.

"I'm gonna kill him," Kurdy muttered and threw open his door, leaving the engine running. Daniel followed, gun held behind the map.

The old Chevy's front doors opened for two women. One was Elizabeth, to Daniel's surprise. She had left earlier, so why was she only now arriving? Her passenger had her hair pulled back tightly, and a scar under one eye that gave her a somewhat piratical look.

"Elizabeth?" Kurdy grinned in relief and joy. She returned his smile, also giving Markus and Daniel friendly greetings.

"And I suppose I don't even get a _**hello**_?" the other woman demanded aggressively, moving forward a few steps and putting a hand on her hip.

Daniel glanced at Markus to see how he was taking her attitude, surprised to see a genuine smile on his face. "Theo. Glad to see you could make it."

She raised her eyebrows in pretended shock. "Glad to see _**you**_, Markus. Heard there was some trouble up there at the End of the World."

He shrugged a little. "Nothing we couldn't handle. And I won't ask where you heard that."

She laughed. Her gaze turned on to Daniel. "Now, you, I don't know. I thought you were Tweedledum's partner Jeremiah, but I see you're different." Her gaze slid up from his toes to his head in a deliberately provocative manner. "Yes, quite different. I understand why Markus would keep someone so _**fine**_ a secret, even from poor lonely Theo."

Daniel felt himself flush, and cursed fair skin for giving it away when she purred in delight. "My goodness, Theo can make the pretty ones blush."

Markus cleared his throat to get her attention, but he was still smiling. "Theo, this is Daniel. Daniel, Theo. She's come to the meeting representing the town of Clarefield. And I see that thankfully," he added, with a glance at Elizabeth, "you didn't kill each other."

Elizabeth darted her passenger a glare without much heat to it. "I think we've come to an understanding."

Theo grinned. "As long as I get my way, everybody's happy. Right, sweetpea?" she asked Elizabeth. But before the younger woman could retort, Theo's smile fell away and it was more seriously that she glanced at Markus. "One of my boys noticed that we picked up a tail outside Clarefield. Little Liz here said it wasn't one of yours."

"No," Markus shook his head, frowning. "Not one of mine."

"Didn't think so, so we lost 'em outside Hamilton. That's why we're late," Theo explained. "I don't think I like that kind of special treatment."

"I wouldn't either," Markus agreed. He glanced westward, narrowing his eyes, then looked back at the others. "Follow us in. I'll get someone to escort you to the meeting."

Daniel thought Theo might object to the order -- she didn't strike him as the type of person who took other people's orders very often -- but she tamely went back to the car without a word.

The two cars made a convoy as they started on their way again.

"Markus," Kurdy said, resuming the wheel, "Please tell me you knew it was Elizabeth's car."

"Of course I did," Markus answered absently. "I saw the front license plate. I wonder how many others were followed?"

"Valhalla Sector?" Daniel asked.

"No doubt." Markus watched the empty storefronts and snow covered parking lots pass by. "Clarefield is only twenty miles from Millhaven. And I'm sure they heard about Theo's visit to the mountain two months ago. Hopefully they picked her because they could be pretty sure she was one of the leaders coming here."

He didn't sound as if he believed it. Rubbing his temples with both hands, he let out a breath. "I'd better talk to Nathan. We're going to have to change some plans."

\---+---

The cars pulled in to Nathan's headquarters. They'd already passed through a security cordon, which was nothing more than a couple of guys with radios who spoke briefly with Kurdy and Markus and gave them directions.

Because of the radios, Daniel was not surprised to see a fence moved aside for them or a youngish man outside to greet them, whom Markus greeted by name with a friendly smile. Nathan was about the same height and skin tone as Kurdy, but slender where Kurdy was broad and all muscle, and cropped hair instead of Kurdy's braids. He was maybe a few years younger than Markus. He looked vaguely familiar to Daniel, making him suspect that he had seen Nathan's counterpart back home.

Nathan and Markus shook hands. "Good to see you again." Nathan's gaze slipped down to see the gun Markus was carrying, and he raised his brows. "Haven't seen you do that before."

Markus replied blandly, "We live in dangerous times."

Nathan barked a laugh. "No kidding." His eyes then went to Daniel and Kurdy with a little frown. "Where's Lee?"

"He couldn't make it," Markus answered shortly. "Nathan, this is Kurdy and Daniel. You'd already left before Kurdy came to us. He'll be taking over for Lee."

"Markus - " Kurdy started to complain in surprise and annoyance, but Daniel nudged him. He really didn't think this was the place for arguments. There were too many people lingering nearby.

Nathan frowned. "Something wrong at home?"

Markus turned to point at the second car. "Elizabeth followed me in with a representative. Could you have someone take them where they're supposed to be?"

Nathan shot him a look that said he knew very well that Markus was evading his question, but he went along with it, moving away to talk to two people standing by the cars holding guns.

Markus gave Kurdy a furious, cold glare. "Let's try not to make this a disaster before we even start," he hissed. "Everything is _**just fine**_ at home. I'll tell Nathan what he needs to know. And if I hear the words 'protect you' pass your lips, I will leave you here. Understand me?"

Kurdy's eyes widened slightly, taken back. That must have been all Markus was looking for, because he turned away and his expression was impassive again before Nathan returned.

Daniel was not surprised by the sudden glimpse of dark temper. He had been around leaders ranging in style from the utter imperialism of the Goa'uld to the ones who held a spiritual authority that gave them the confidence not to appear 'in charge' at all. Markus was somewhere in between, with an easy-going style that would have developed naturally in the enclosed society of Thunder Mountain. But after fifteen years of deference and under a great deal of stress, it was no wonder he'd snapped at Kurdy.

"All taken care of," Nathan announced, wandering back. One of his people got into the backseat and Elizabeth drove away. Theo blew a kiss out the open window.

"Let's get inside," Nathan suggested. "It's cold out here." He glanced at Markus, who shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched against the wind. "I think we have a lot to talk about."

The building had once been a hotel, Daniel suspected, though they had come in through the back delivery area. There was a big kitchen, bare except for the large metal sinks, counter-tops, and hooks from the ceiling, which had once held pots and pans, and then into a corridor which led to offices, and through to what had once been reception.

There was still a crystal chandelier in the spacious room, now grimy with soot from fires, lit on braziers set on the marble tile. But the furniture was sturdy wood with metal-reinforced joints, not the delicate pieces which had been here before, and the wallpaper was peeling, where it wasn't gone altogether. Several high skylights let in vague, gray sunlight.

Nathan led them to a side table where there was a large teapot taken from some fancy china setting, hiding under a tea cozy made from a little kid's sweater. "Tea?" he asked. "I'd offer you coffee, but we drank up the last package you sent, Markus."

"I would've brought more with me, if I'd thought about it. Sorry," Markus answered with a brief smile. "Tea's great. I don't think I've been warm since I left home."

Daniel and Kurdy both accepted and Nathan poured into four of the six mismatched mugs on the table and handed them around. "To success," Nathan toasted, and they all clinked mugs.

The warmth of the spearmint flavored tea was welcome in Daniel's stomach and he felt better as he pulled up a chair and sat down. A fifth person approached and took the last seat. She was in her early-twenties, Asian-featured with long black hair -- Daniel got a good look at her and nearly fell off his chair. He knew her -- or at least another her. "Alyssa!"

She glanced at him and frowned. "Do I know you?"

He shook his head, trying to recover from his surprise. "Uh, no, I don't think so. But you are Alyssa Satterfield, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," she answered cautiously.

She exchanged a look with Nathan, just as Daniel was on the receiving one of his own from Markus in warning. But Daniel knew enough to cover his mistake. "Sorry, it must be weird. But I knew your parents: Joy Satterfield was one of my professors in anthropology."

She stared at him, suddenly pale. "You knew my mom?"

He nodded. It happened to be true, at least in an another universe. Joy Satterfield had also been the only academic to agree with Daniel's theories, and he'd brought her on board at the SGC as a consultant in Far Eastern cultures. Alyssa had entered the Air Force Academy, since it was the quickest way to get involved in the SGC herself. Alyssa was now a lieutenant on SG-16. "Your mom sent me Christmas cards with your picture so I watched you get bigger. At least until the Big Death," he added, remembering there was only so long those cards could have kept coming.

She blinked several times and could barely speak. "But then, you must be -- how did you -- why?"

"I was on a dig," he explained softly, knowing she wanted to know how he was still alive. "Everyone else died, but I didn't. I don't know why. Natural immunity I guess."

She nodded calmly, but there was a hint of distress around her eyes.

Daniel, who remembered his own parents' deaths too well, reached across and patted her hand once. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. But seeing you was such a shock…"

"No, that's okay," she dashed a hand across her eyes. Then she straightened and glanced at Markus, pulling up a smile with effort, to change the subject. "You look tired, Markus. I'll have to yell at Erin the next time I call the mountain for not taking good enough care of you."

"Erin is not my keeper," he retorted, but he couldn't keep up the offended tilt to his chin, his expression softening. "It'll be good to have this done with so you both can come back. You've been away a long time, long enough you haven't met Kurdy or Daniel." He indicated them with a casual tilt of his head, and looked from Alyssa to Nathan, including him in his next words, "You're doing good work �" I was impressed by the force you've gathered."

Nathan shrugged, but he looked pleased. "A year's long enough to do just about anything, Markus."

Kurdy frowned from Alyssa to Nathan and Markus. "Wait a sec. You mean to tell me you've been planning this for a _**year**_?" he demanded incredulously. "I thought St. Louis was a new thing? That's why you had Theo brought to the Mountain two months ago."

"I always knew I wanted to do something like St. Louis," Markus explained. "Nathan was one of our best recon guys, and he volunteered to set up shop and start organizing a place away from Thunder Mountain where we could have the meeting."

"Oh," Kurdy said finally. It was clear he was surprised and a bit impressed too. "Elizabeth told me this had been in the works, I just didn't realize it was _**that**_ long."

"Anyway," Nathan said, "I know you're here to replace Lee, Kurdy. But I don't exactly know what Daniel's here for," the last was said with a puzzled glance at him. It wasn't hostile, just curious.

Daniel smiled. "Observer. As you heard, I have some training in anthropology, so I'm going to keep a record of the proceedings."

"Daniel's also an advisor," Markus added, unexpectedly. "He remembers what it was like before, plus he knows a lot of the history of more primitive societies, which is, basically, what we've become. But I'm afraid that we have some more urgent issues we need to discuss." He leaned closer and spoke more softly, so those who were working at the edges of the room and keeping watch on the entrances couldn't hear.

"Theo, the one who just left for the staging area, reported to me that a car picked her up outside her town of Clarefield and tried to follow her. She lost them, but it concerns me. Did anyone else mention being followed?"

Alyssa nodded once, slowly. "The leader from Hillburton Ridge said a car had followed them too. He set an ambush and shot them. He thought at first it was a local rivalry, but the dead men had good clothes, lots of ammo, and comm gear, so he was pretty sure that they were from Valhalla Sector."

"Yes," Markus agreed. "It's clear that Valhalla Sector knows about the meeting, and I'm sure they feel threatened by it."

"So what do we do?" Nathan asked.

"I don't want to cancel," Markus said. He folded both hands around his mug. The rim was chipped but the mug still bore the logo for a long-gone computer company. Looking inside, he inhaled the aroma and frowned in thought. "But at the same time, we can't be stupid. I assume you already chose a site?"

Nathan nodded, "Yeah. It was a stadium for one of the colleges. It's large, but that way everyone gets plenty of room, plus it's not a box. Nobody wanted to be in a place they could get trapped."

"How many people know about it?" Markus asked.

"Us," Alyssa said. "And my team. That's about twelve people. Oh, and the people who are setting up for dinner. That's another ten or so. We haven't told anyone who's come for the meeting."

"Good," Markus nodded slowly. "That'll help. But I think we need a new location for tomorrow. If we stay in one place too much, they're going to hear about it. I'd like to be as far away as possible, on the other side of town tomorrow."

Nathan and Alyssa exchanged a glance, and she nodded. Nathan said, "I think we have the place. But we need to make sure no one's moved in. Alyssa, if you'll take a partner and go scout it?"

She nodded agreement.

"Kurdy, why don't you go check it out with her?" Markus suggested. "Nothing's going to happen for at least a couple of hours." Kurdy agreed, giving Daniel a sharp look that warned he'd better not be leaving. Markus didn't seem to notice. "We'll have to put watchers on the main ways into town, far enough out to give us some warning."

"Got it covered," Nathan said. "Anything else?"

Markus hesitated, then decided to speak what was on his mind. "Has Patrick from Lawrence arrived?"

Daniel straightened, his attention grabbed by the mention of the Kansas town near Seth's compound. Jack had called earlier this morning with the news that his group had found it, and that Sam and Jeremiah were going in.

Alyssa shook her head. "No. Why?"

"Make sure his party's watched," Markus said. "Quietly. I found out there's a large, deadly cult based close to Lawrence. I'm … concerned," he chose the word carefully, "that Patrick or one of his people is a member. I don't know if they'd do anything, but we should be careful."

Daniel felt a little cold, realizing that Markus was right. Seth could send a representative of his own to this gathering, with an agenda favorable to no one but Seth.

Alyssa and Nathan agreed. After a bit more strategizing, the group broke up. Kurdy and Alyssa went to find another meeting location, Nathan went to referee an argument between two representatives, and Markus and Daniel stayed at Nathan's HQ.

To Daniel's surprise, Markus didn't take out his speech. Instead he frowned into his cup.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Daniel prompted after the silence lingered for several minutes.

"Pennies are actually somewhat valuable nowadays," Markus remarked absently. "Some towns use those machines that press them into souvenirs as local currency."

As intrigued as Daniel was by that development, he decided he'd better not get distracted. "Well?"

Markus shook his head once. "Last night, when I couldn't sleep," he said, not looking up, "I kept thinking I should know who the spy in the mountain is. I have the feeling it's staring me right in the face." He stared at the cup with a disgruntled expression for a little while, and then slapped his hands on the tabletop "But I'm not seeing it." Folding his hands together, he rested his forehead against them and muttered, "I hate that feeling."

"You've got a lot on your mind right now," Daniel said in attempted reassurance.

"I'm sure that will be a great comfort after someone else gets killed," Markus snapped. He shoved back his chair and paced to the teapot, pouring another cup and drinking it down. It had to be cold, but Daniel didn't think he tasted it.

Daniel waited, and after a moment, the frustrated anger passed. Markus' shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just -- I can feel -- " Caught by his inability to explain, he stopped, took a deep breath, and started over. "It's like I had all these strings in my hand, and I was braiding them together, but now they're all tangled and fraying and I know that the only way I can fix them is to drop them and start all over again. But I can't, because if I drop them I might never find them again…" His torrent of words trickled to a stop and he added more softly, "It's going to fail, Daniel. I know it's going to fail."

He spoke calmly, but with assurance, as if it was already a done thing. And Daniel's heart ached at the despair in it. But he understood. It was just as Markus had said back in the mountain: the expert chess player could see the end coming. His prodigious mind had examined all the options and found no escape and no hope.

Unlike Markus, Daniel had plenty of experience in situations when it looked like there was no hope at all, but the team had found a way out anyway. But, as Jack would say, you could only find the way out if you were looking for it. Daniel had to get Markus to look for it.

He chewed at his inner lip, trying to come up with something to say. If he tried telling Markus he was wrong it wasn't even likely to be heard, not to mention believed. Finally Daniel just went with his gut. "Maybe you're right, democracy and civilization aren't in the cards in the near future, I don't know. I do know that over a hundred people are coming from all over the country this afternoon who sure hope that it's not true. But even if it is, _**you**_ won't have failed. Because you believed that it could be done, and you made other people believe. That's important too."

Markus mulled over his words in silence, then quirked a little half-smile. "Better to blaze a trail and still get lost in the woods, than to just sit on the edge and watch the forest burn down?"

Daniel frowned, working his way through the metaphor. "Right. Something like that." Then he smiled, struck by a thought. "You don't happen to know a, uh, woman named Oma Desala do you?"

Markus glanced at him quizzically. "No. Why? Who is she?"

Daniel shook his head. "Never mind. You talk like her sometimes. Jack'll be disappointed that you don't know each other." He went over to Markus, continuing more seriously, "I'm sorry, Markus. This is sort of our fault. You've got your own things to deal with, and then we added all our problems. Jack said we shouldn't burden you with knowledge of things you can't do anything about. I think he was right."

"No, Daniel. I don't believe in ignorance. I'd rather know about things, even if they're sort of … inconvenient." Markus folded his arms and regarded Daniel for a moment, before he let out a long breath. "It's not your fault. If anything, you and your friends have been more of a help than a problem. You especially. It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't expect things from me."

"Thanks. But I don't think it's entirely true," Daniel said, with a smile. "I expect you to go out there in a couple of hours and get all these people united behind your leadership. And I expect you to help me and my friends get home."

Markus lifted his brows. "You don't want much, do you? Is that all?"

Lightly, Daniel answered, "Oh, I guess, defeat your enemies, build a new country, and generally save the world. Not too much."

Markus chuckled. If the sound was still a little bitter, Daniel figured it was an improvement, and about as good as he was going to get. He went back to his chair and turned it to face Markus.

"Come on," he urged. "Give me the speech again."

Markus put his hand in his pocket as if to take out the paper, but Daniel shook his head. "No. You know it. When you say it, try to think of what the words mean to you. The rest will take care of itself."

Markus nodded, but he didn't begin right away. Instead, he looked at Daniel and said quietly, "Thank you."

Daniel nodded back. "Anytime."

\---+---

Despite Sam's aggressive workout regime at home, her arms ached as she washed the flour off them. Kneading dough for bread all day was not her choice of occupations. Yet the women around her cheerfully went about their business, baking, stirring and generally making enough food to feed an army. They all had a job, and although Sam had tried to find an excuse to search, they never left her with any free time, and even when she went to the bathroom, she had company.

It wasn't until they had started cooking the meat for dinner that the talk began revolving around Seth and their duties after dinner. Seth ate in the privacy of his own chambers while the women served the working men and children, eating their own dinner in shifts in the kitchen. Afterwards, ten women were chosen to help Seth with his bath, while the others cleaned up the dishes, took care of the children, and prepared anything necessary for the next day's meals. Sam asked about house cleaning, but it seemed another detail of women took care of that.

Sherry bustled up to her. "Hurry, Sam. It's time for the choosing."

Reluctantly, Sam dried off her hands, remembering how the other Seth, the one from her reality, had surrounded himself with women as well. It seemed that here this whole compound was his personal harem. Sam was not ready for such an "honor", but for now she had to go along.

She followed Sherry up one set of stairs and into a carpeted corridor. "Will Seth be there?" Sam asked Sherry, hoping she sounded at least curious, if not enthusiastic.

"Oh no," Sherry answered. "The priestesses choose for him. Those bearing are excused, of course, and --"

"I'm sorry," Sam interrupted. "Priestesses? What priestesses?"

"Oh, you probably haven't seen them yet. There are only three here now. They mostly go among the outsiders to spread the word."

"I see." Sam nodded, thinking back to the note in Simon's journal.

Sherry went on, "They conduct many of the rituals, too, like the choosing. They are handmaidens to our Lord, and do his will."

She stopped talking as they followed others through open double doors into a large room. Plush red curtains hung over the walls, and an immense Oriental rug covered the floor. The room was lit by several large candle branches, each with at least a dozen candles, which put a warm yellow glow across the faces of the young women gathering.

The room's only furniture was a pair of black-lacquered, high-backed chairs flanking a small marble table at one end. Two women sat in the throne-like chairs, presiding over the gathering. Unlike all the rest of the women in their simple beige dresses, these two wore black gowns, cut low in front with bare shoulders. They were also wearing make-up, including heavy eyeliner and bold red lipstick. One was blond and one had dark hair, but the make-up made them look alike.

"Sit," Sherry whispered, and tugged her down. Sam joined her, kneeling on the rug.

When the last woman entered, the doors were closed. Sam chanced a look around. There were about fifty women, kneeling in rows around her, all facing the chairs.

Someone struck a small hand gong, and Sam turned back to face front.

"It is time for the Choosing," one of the priestesses intoned. Her "sister" stood and began picking her way through the gathering. She lifted chins to look into faces that shone with hope at every touch.

Sam quelled the urge to roll her eyes. She was sure the decisions had already been made. The priestesses were milking the drama of it to feel their own power.

"Who shall be chosen to attend our Lord tonight?" the seated priestess asked ritually. "Who among you will lie with him tonight? Who shall take his seed and bear a living child to follow his first commandment?"

The priestess came down Sam's row, stopping at Sherry. "Our Lord remembers you, Sherry. You are chosen."

Sherry clapped her hands in delight. "I am blessed," she said, in an unsteady voice.

"Truly you are," the dark-haired priestess said, and stopped in front of Sam.

Sam kept her eyes down on the floor. Mentally she urged the priestess to keep going and leave her alone. She didn't want to be "blessed". But all the while, she felt it was inevitable. Seth had told his priestesses to bring her to him, to make sure she really was one of them. The newcomer was too tantalizing an enigma with her naquadah-laced blood for him to ignore.

Slowly she raised her eyes to the priestess, dreading the words that were sure to follow. Her heart was already thudding in her chest at the mere thought of having to be in the same room with the Goa'uld again. Bathing him. Being chosen as his bedmate.

She couldn't. Just couldn't do it again.

The thought froze there. "Again." There was no "again."

She realized a part of her fear was not her own, but remnants of Jolinar's memories of Netu and what the Tok'ra had done there. The priestess gave her a commiserating smile and kept walking.

A rush of relief swept through her body making her fall forward. "I'm sorry," Sherry whispered, "but it's rare to be selected so soon."

Sam wanted to laugh at the innocent girl's misinterpretation of her reaction. The sound of crying pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked up with a frown.

One of the women in the front row was clutching the priestess' dress. Her sobs broke up her desperate words, "Does our Lord forgive me, Tania? Please, tell me he forgives me. I can't bear being apart from him so long -- "

The priestess coolly detached her fingers. "Heidi is chosen," she repeated, then added, "Whether he will raise you up again, only He knows. Please him, Heidi. Please him, and pray for his forgiveness. That is all I know."

Heidi collapsed to the floor, sobbing, with what Sam thought was excessive zeal. Until it occurred to her that Heidi had likely been exposed to nish'ta. Being barred from his presence would be terrible punishment for someone with nish'ta in her blood.

Probably all the priestesses were infected, to ensure their loyalty. She wondered idly what Heidi had done.

The priestess continued until ten were chosen in total.

"The Chosen will come to our Lord when it is time," the other priestess said. "The others will seek your baths and bed companion and follow our god's first commandment."

All the women responded, "Be fruitful and multiply."

Sam wondered if any of these children knew that their god had stolen his commandment from someone else.

Priestess Tania raised her arms, "In the name of Seth, whose gift of immortality shall flow to all believers, blessed be the union of man and woman."

Then, it seemed, it was over. The two priestesses left through the double doors, and everyone else stood up. Sam and Sherry soon found themselves surrounded, as many of the others raved about Sherry's good fortune. Sam let it go on as long as she could stand it, and then she smiled, playing up her "simple" mind, "Aren't we supposed to be serving the men dinner?"

At the reminder, the jubilant girls finally dispersed. Sam let some of them get between her and Sherry, returning downstairs. She couldn't take more of Sherry's enthusiasm. She wanted to take the young, attractive red-head by the shoulders and shake her, yelling at her that Seth was no god and she should be seeking someone to respect her, not someone who was using her body to breed an army to take over the planet.

But she couldn't say those things. She'd learned the futility of telling believers not to believe years ago on SG-1. They had to already have some doubts, or they wouldn't hear her. So she held her tongue and went back to the kitchen.

As they began serving the men, Sam noticed Jeremiah sitting at the table. She made sure she served him herself. "How are you doing?" she asked.

"Painted a shed today." He shrugged and took the plate from her. "Did you find anything?" he asked in a low murmur.

She bent close, rearranging his silverware. "Haven't had a chance to look. Don't suppose you found the armory?"

He looked at her questioningly. "You're gonna swipe some guns?"

"No. Just thinking that might be a good place to check for the stuff."

"Yeah. When I came in from painting, there was troop of soldiers heading in. North corridor."

Jeremiah finished speaking as another woman, Penny, came up. Penny was one of the kitchen supervisors.

"Is there a problem?" Penny asked, looking concerned. Her gaze swiveled back and forth between Sam and Jeremiah.

"No," Sam responded with a forced smile, straightening. "My brother wanted to know about my day and I was describing the choosing."

Penny smiled kindly and patted her shoulder. "Perhaps next time you will be chosen. You will know you are favored if he wants you to wash his hair. Make sure you straddle his legs and wash from the front," her face took on a dreamy smile, "He likes to touch you as you run your fingers --"

Jeremiah snorted and added softly, "Don't we all."

The woman looked at him, glowing with approval. "Oh yes. The men will tell you about finding your own companion. Sam will no doubt be highly sought after, being new."

Sam stared. "I'm sorry..." she lost her voice and had to clear her throat. "Sought after for what?" she asked, desperately hoping Penny didn't mean what Sam thought she meant.

"Bed companion," Penny explained with a frown, as though Sam should have realized something so obvious. "Didn't anyone explain to you that we choose the man we sleep with? Not that they don't try to make it seem like their own idea," she mock-whispered and winked at Jeremiah, before heading off. "Come, Sam, we need to finish."

Reading between the lines, Sam did _**not**_like the implication that sleeping alone was not an acceptable choice. There was no way she was going to stay that long. She had to start searching now; they had to find the naquadah, before Seth or someone else forced her to share his bed.

After escaping to the kitchen, and without asking, she took the stairs down to the supply room, where the food was stored. She looked around in amazement. The area was huge, stretching all the way under one wing of building, broken by support columns and large hulking storage bins. One wall had racks holding several hundred bottles of wine. The rack was clean; Seth must like his wine. Against another wall were more shelves piled high with canned goods, remnants from before the virus. These, however, were dusty and didn't look as if they had ever been touched.

The opposite way, there were massive steel doors. She pulled one of them open and cold air rushed out into her face. It was a giant walk-in freezer, with sides of beef and pork hanging ready to be butchered. How much food did the installation consume in a day? Sam tried to calculate how many actually lived here and was staggered at the number she came up with.

But the freezer meant a power supply. She shut the door again and began to scan the basement for relays, or junction boxes, or even a circuit breaker panel. There had to be something here to give her a direction to find its source. Or a set of rings. However nothing in the electrical system looked alien in design and she couldn't feel the presence of naquadah anywhere in the basement. If Seth was generating power from naquadah, it was somewhere else.

Disheartened, she leaned up against the wall. Where else might he have naquadah? The armory was a good bet, but would she be able to find an adequate amount in the right grade?

Spurred on by the thought that staying one night might mean she'd have to have sleep with stranger, Sam climbed the steps back to the kitchen to continue her searching. Listening at the top, the kitchen sounded empty. She entered. The lights had been turned off, and there was only a glow from under the door leading into the dining area.

Taking a deep breath, she walked through to door to find three women just leaving, with their backs to her. Sam followed, but not too closely behind them, thinking that if anyone asked her what or where she was going she could tell them she was trying to catch up to the three ahead of her.

She made it up the two flights and went down the north wing. One man, dressed in BDU's leered at her, but did nothing to stop her progress. Two more were coming out of the armory as she passed, which allowed her to get a look inside. Her blood tingled in recognition that there was naquadah inside. Aiming for nonchalance, she continued walking, until the two men's voices had disappeared. Quickly she circled back and entered the room.

Crates of guns lined the one wall and other boxes filled with ammo were stacked next to them. One large metal cabinet stood against the other wall, and she opened the door. It was stacked with Goa'uld weapons: zats, staff weapons and even a small box of shock grenades. Knowing that she couldn't hide much on her person, she passed on them, hoping that the naquadah would come in a container small enough to allow her to take a zat, too. Just in case.

But the only naquadah was in the staff weapons, and that wouldn't work. She closed the cabinet doors and began to peruse the room, hoping there was more. On top of the cabinet were three ceramic jars with closed lids. They were Goa'uld shielded storage containers. She climbed up on one of the crates and took down one of the jars. Opening the lid, a soft greenish glow from within told her it contained high-grade naquadah. Feeling giddy with both relief and hope, she closed the container and slipped it in her dress, using the belt to secure it. Then she climbed down and returned the crate to its original position. She considered taking a zat, but the gun would be too obvious, so she left it. Peeking out the door and finding the hall empty, she hurried back to the room she and Jeremiah had been assigned.

\---+---

Jack watched as all the people began disappearing inside the house. His stomach growled. It must be meal time.

He started for the far side of the compound, annoyed at himself and the megalomaniac inside. His side of things had been a complete waste of a day. He'd found squat. There was nothing outside the fence that resembled a bolt-hole. Why would Seth have something inside? If he needed to escape, wouldn't he want to be as far away from the buildings as he could possibly get?

His stomach growled again. He took a drink from his canteen and drew out a power bar from his vest. He greedily chowed it down, slipping the wrapper back inside the pocket.

Something snapped.

Jack froze. Someone else was out here. He waited, listening intently. He looked around, but didn't see anyone. The land was flat. No trees for at least a thousand feet back. No deer or cows or any other big animal. Only dirt and old corn stalks. Then as he listened carefully, he could hear a rustling, like someone was crawling through the stalks. Jack immediately dropped to the ground, and brought his binoculars up to scan around him.

Jack slid his gun out, clicking off the safety. His heart was pounding so loudly, he almost didn't hear the soft swearword. The voice was familiar. Taking a chance, Jack called, "Who's there?"

"No one," the voice called back. It was enough to give him a direction. It was away from the fence, but in the opposite direction from where the packs were hidden.

Jack crawled, not wanting to take the chance in case he was wrong, but his instincts were telling him that the person he heard was none other than, "Mister Smith," Jack spoke aloud, rising to his knees, as he stared at the strange sight before him.

"Jack. Hello. You've caught me at a disadvantage," he responded ruefully.

'Caught' was the operative word. Mister Smith was lying face down, his foot stuck in the top of a pipe that was only slightly above ground level. His knee was wedged, so that his entire leg was held immobile by the rocks and ground.

"I can't get my foot free," he explained, sounding apologetic.

"Let me see." Jack put his gun away and crawled over to the pipe. Smith's foot was securely wedged in, toe first, and the weight of his heel had pushed the toe in too far for the whole foot to come out on its own.

"Let's take off your boot," Jack suggested.

"Can you? I don't seem to be able to move."

Jack pulled some of the dirt away, so that he could slide his own hands underneath Smith's ankle. It was tight, but Jack was just able to slide two fingers inside the pipe and felt around for the laces. Luckily they weren't knotted, so with a slight tug and then pull, he was able to untie the boot. Working the laces loose, Jack wiggled the foot until it slid out.

"Oh, thank you so much," Smith replied, sitting up, massaging his foot. "God said, it was going to be okay, but I doubted. It hurt so bad and then it didn't hurt. I knew it was a bad sign."

"How long have you been here?" Jack asked.

"For awhile. I saw you watching the people inside, and I didn't want to disturb you. Or gain their attention," he added with a brittle laugh.

Jack sighed and then went back to the pipe, trying to work the boot free. With careful pushing and prodding, and then a yank, Jack got it free. Smith took it and placed it back on his foot, but Jack had lost interest in Smith. He was busy working out why a pipe was sticking up in the middle of nowhere. Ventilation duct? For a tunnel? he asked himself gaining some hope that his quest wasn't going to be impossible.

"Do you have food left? I haven't had anything to eat since dinner last night."

Jack heard the request, but his mind was busy processing. If he drew a mental line from the pipe to the shed where Jeremiah had spent the day painting, and then extended it away from the compound... He turned his body one hundred eighty degrees and looked. About half a mile away, there was a tall, round silo built at the corner of four fields. The line led directly to it. Jack was no farmer, but he had never heard of a silo in the middle of nowhere. Weren't they usually built near the farmhouse or barn? Its placement was highly suspicious.

"If you don't have any food left, that's okay. I've gone three whole days before without food. But, how about water? Got any of that?"

Jack absently handed over his canteen and continued his calculations. So, it was possible the silo was built after the Big Death and used to store food where no one would think to look. It was possible, but improbable. What if Seth had built his tunnel to extend from the shed to the silo? Better -- what if he had a tel'tak hidden in or under the silo?

"Come on Smith, let's go take a look at that silo sitting all by its lonesome." Jack headed that way.

"Wait," Smith called. "I think we should go back and get your pack. I mean it's such a long way, and we do need food."

Jack stopped and gave him a disgruntled look.

Smith persisted, "Isn't your radio to your other friend back there? What if he needs to call you? You really should go get it."

"I have the radio right here and neither of my friends have called me." Jack was getting tired of the continued implied warning that his friends were in danger. But the kid had a point -- the short range comm unit was only to hear from Carter and Jeremiah, but he needed the radio to talk to either Thunder Mountain or Daniel. He sighed. "All right. Fine. We'll go get the packs and then head to that silo."

Smith gave him a grateful smile, and somehow Jack wasn't convinced it was because Smith wanted food, although that was what he told himself.

Jack wanted to hurry as fast as possible to the silo so he could check it out while it was still light. He gave Carter's pack to Smith to carry, and shouldered his own, along with Jeremiah's small bag. He compromised by removing bread from the pack and they ate as they walked back the way they had come. Smith seemed content, and although he walked gingerly on the uneven ground, he wasn't limping. One catastrophe averted through dumb luck.

"You know, it might be a good place to spend the night," Jack though out loud as they neared the silo.

"I don't think we'll be here that long," Smith replied cryptically.

Jack turned abruptly to ask what he meant, but Smith gave him an innocent smile and took another bite of his bread.

They set the packs down outside the circular structure. Jack removed his high-powered flashlight and gun, in case it was already occupied. Smith contented himself by sitting on the ground up against the silo and closed his eyes. He looked ready for a nap. Jack was too eager to find Seth's tunnel to worry about resting. Something told him time was running out, no doubt exacerbated by Smith's presence.

There was a door on the base of the silo; at least he didn't have to climb up several stories. He shined the flashlight inside and found it was entirely empty from dirt floor to rafters, high overhead. No grain, no hay, no anything related to farming. And certainly nothing resembling a tel'tak. However, remnants of corn were piled in corners, probably by industrious mice, and the floor was thick with dirt and bits of dried hay and corn. Using his feet he pushed the dust away, trying to get a look beneath, hoping to see the signs of a ring transport apparatus or something that might lead him underground.

"You know," Smith came up to the doorway, "I told you it was a waste of time to have Sam go in there," he nodded toward the compound. "She won't find what she's looking for."

"Yeah, what's that?" Jack responded sharply, having had it with the cryptic hints. He got enough of it from the aliens, without finding it here on Earth, too.

Smith looked down, then back to Jack. "God doesn't tell me everything. I just know she won't get it."

With a grunt, Jack turned away from Smith. He stiffened as he glanced over the door. A smile slowly spread over his face. It was a Goa'uld symbol. He had found the trigger.


	12. Chapter 12

For someone as expert at infiltration as Jolinar, locating and entering the gathering was not difficult. Using a little of Rosha's feminine wiles and her own ability to spin a believable story on a moment's notice, she let the guards give her a quick, inexpert patdown for weapons and walked into the stadium chosen to host the meeting.

The late afternoon sun was bright and warm, and had melted the light dusting of snow on the field. The covered viewing stands where she stood provided a view into a wooded area beyond the field. It was all very open.

It was early, so she was not surprised to see few people. But she did notice that those who were there were in small isolated groups. Some were looking quite hostile at other people who were there. Those hostile groups were the focus of attention by the meeting's guards, but she noticed that the few people on the other side of the field by the chain-link fence were looking out. And they were armed.

_'They expect trouble,'_ Rosha observed. _'They won't be taken by surprise.'_

Jolinar disagreed. _'They are wary, but these are not adequate defenses if they truly knew that Valhalla Sector was coming.'_ But Malek had been clear on that point--the base was nearly empty of soldiers.

She walked down the steps toward the front and then across the second aisle back from the concrete safety barrier, to pick a place in front of the platform set up in the field where Markus would speak. Malek had desired very much to meet the leader of Thunder Mountain, and she wanted to be able to give him a full report.

_'Should we warn them?' _Rosha asked. Jolinar felt a rush of affection for her soft-hearted host, who always wanted to do the right thing.

_'We don't know that they're coming today either.'_ She sat on the blue-painted bench, careful to put the skirt of her jacket beneath her. The plastic was still very cold. _'The attack may be tomorrow or the day after. One of the guards mentioned a smaller site for tomorrow. That would be easier to attack than this open plain. But in any case, we have nothing to tell them that would not compromise Malek. And that I will not do.'_

In all these years, she had never grown used to her friend willingly remaining trapped in Valhalla Sector. She had no illusions that if he were discovered torture would swiftly follow. Malek would have no choice but to release a poison into their bloodstream to end their life. It seemed too heavy a price to pay.

_'He remains to make sure Valhalla Sector never finds a way to use the virus against the Tau'ri again,'_ Rosha reminded her.

_'I know_, _I know,'_ Jolinar answered. It was not as if she didn't understand his purpose, but she also didn't understand his dedication. She was dedicated to one thing -- the ultimate destruction of the Goa'uld -- and this permanent detour of Malek's was inexplicable. And she at least knew the Tau'ri and felt pity for them. The Council was growing less patient with his stubbornness and his "infatuation" with the Tau'ri at a time when their own numbers were dwindling. They did not understand why he wanted to stay.

_'Lantash understands_,' Rosha pointed out with some justification.

_'Because Martouf would do exactly the same thing, if we would let him,'_ Jolinar said, unable to help a smile at the thought of him.

She fingered the small amulet on a golden chain around her neck with its hidden communications device, soothed by its presence. Their beloved was only a call away. He had stayed in their tunnels not far from Valhalla Sector, ready if either she or Malek needed help.

As darkness fell, the string of small bare light bulbs hung in the central area of the stands came on, casting a warm yellow glow across the faces of the arrivals. There were many more people now, and Jolinar was rather impressed with the numbers. Even assuming some were guards, it was still a highly respectable turn-out for a gathering that had been put together without the use of communication devices.

She became aware of a small knot of people approaching from her left and turned to look. The petite dark-skinned woman was likely cold in her stomach-baring shirt and short purple jacket, but she didn't show it. She was trailed by a younger, softer looking woman, and two young men who were clearly guards.

"This will do," the leader sat, taking her seat as proudly as a queen. She was only two meters or so away, on the row behind. She noticed Jolinar's look and returned it, aggressively. "What? Is this your seat or something?"

Jolinar smiled easily. These Tau'ri children could not intimidate her. "Of course not. But no one else here has come so close, so I was curious. I am Jo-Lynn." The Tau'ri adjustment to her name was one she used frequently. It was similar enough that she would respond, without being as strange as her true name.

The other woman squinted at her, looking a little suspicious. "Theo," she answered finally. "From Clarefield."

The younger one leaned forward and held out her hand. "Elizabeth. From Thunder Mountain."

"Oh?" Jolinar looked at the girl -- she really was little more than a girl -- with more interest while shaking her hand. "So you know Markus Alexander?"

Elizabeth nodded with a smile. "Of course. I grew up with him. Where are you from? I don't think I remember your name from the lists."

"I'm from a place called Vorash," Jolinar answered. In her head, Rosha sputtered at this brazenness. Jolinar ignored her. "Peter told me about the meeting. I thought it sounded interesting."

"That's great," Elizabeth beamed. "Markus will be so pleased that word is spreading."

Jolinar felt ever so slightly guilty about deceiving her. Such an innocent, she deserved only the truth.

"As long as word doesn't spread to the wrong ears," Theo muttered and gave Jolinar a hard look.

Jolinar pretended not to see, keeping her attention on Elizabeth. "So what's he like?"

Theo snorted and interrupted, "He's a dreamer. A head full of impractical ideas, which anyone with half a brain knows are never really gonna work."

Elizabeth nudged her sharply in the ribs. "Shut up. You'll give her the wrong impression, Theo."

"What? Am I wrong, sweetpea?" Theo demanded. "He's a dreamer, and you know it."

"Maybe," Elizabeth allowed, but asked pointedly, "But you're still here, aren't you?"

Theo seemed to have nothing to say to that, and Jolinar hid another smile. But she observed to Rosha, _'I think Malek was right to have us come. This Theo is a hard woman, yet Markus has touched her nonethelesss.'_

_'I'm eager to hear what he has to say,'_ Rosha agreed.

"C'mon, Markus, get out there," Theo muttered, tucking her hands in her sleeves, as a chill breeze sprang up. "I'm freezing my ass off."

"You're the one who changed clothes," Elizabeth reminded her in a tart voice. Jolinar was not entirely sure what relationship the two women had -- there was a little too much hostility for friendship, and yet they were sitting together when there was plenty of room to move.

_'Sort of like you and Anise,'_ Rosha said, amused. _'Stuck together because Freya and I are friends.'_

Elizabeth leaned forward, looking for Markus presumably, and then glanced around at the gathering anxiously. "I sure hope they listen to him," she murmured to herself.

The lights strung around the platform on the field then went on, casting a bright glow on the podium and the microphone.

Jolinar turned all her attention there, and waited in anticipation. This would be very interesting.

\---+---

Showtime.

Markus felt sick. Even though he'd had nothing to eat since breakfast, he still thought he might have to throw up. He stared blindly at the end of the tunnel toward the field, seeing only the glow of the lights. The cold was biting his face but he didn't notice.

"Breathe," Kurdy advised and clapped him on the back. "You're gonna do fine, Markus."

"Right," he said, trying to convince himself. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the nervous tension gripping him. "What's the worst that can happen?" he asked rhetorically. "No one's going to waste fruit by throwing it at me. They'll just walk out."

"They won't," Daniel said from the other side. "They _want_ to hear what you have to say, Markus. Remember that. They're here because they want to build something too."

He nodded. Daniel was right, and that helped. Because that was what this was about, after all, building something. Building the future.

Closing his eyes, he took a slow, deep breath. _I know what we can do,_ he reminded himself. _I know what we can be, if we have a chance. The phoenix can rise out of the ashes of the old world if we join together. We can build something new and better than what we lost. That's what I promised Dad that last day before he went outside. I have to keep that promise._

The grief that accompanied that thought was old, softened by years, but strong enough to sweep away the anxiety. Without the stage fright in the way, a strong sense of resolution and purpose rose in its place.

_I will not fail at this. For Mom and Dad, for Meaghan, for all my friends at the mountain… the new world begins now._

His eyes opened. Squeezing Kurdy and Daniel's shoulders in thanks for their support, he started down the tunnel alone.

They followed a few paces behind, but he didn't pay attention. Nathan and Alyssa were both standing at the mouth of the tunnel. Alyssa seemed to be reporting something, which disturbed Nathan.

"Problem?" Markus asked, knowing there was.

They exchanged a glance, and Nathan answered, "We've had no contact from our guys watching the roads. They're supposed to check in every half hour. They might just be late, they're not the most reliable …" he trailed off and shrugged a little uncomfortably.

The implication was clear: someone had taken out the guards. If so, that meant Valhalla Sector was coming.

"We should get you out of here," Kurdy stepped forward, putting a hand on Markus' jacket.

"No," Markus shrugged him off. "These people put their lives on the line to come here. We do what we came here to do."

All four exchanged looks as if debating taking him away bodily. He ignored them. What he could never explain to them was that he _knew_ he had to do this now. Though he was too much of a scientist to believe in fate, still there was something pulling him forward and demanding that he be the one to tip over that first domino. If he didn't, no one would. And despite what his intellect told him would be the consequence of going down this path, he had no real choice. Maybe it was all just ego, believing that he was here in this place for this purpose, but that didn't matter. He had to do it.

Nathan stepped forward a pace as if he intended to exchange a high-five or tap his shoulder, but stopped when he glanced Markus' face. "Good luck," he said quietly and got out of the way.

Markus walked across the field toward the lit platform and glanced at the stands. It was gratifying to see how many had come. Though the light and distance were such that he couldn't identify most of them, he spied Theo and Elizabeth sitting near the front with an attractive blonde woman he didn't recognize. Elizabeth's gaze slid behind him to find Kurdy, but Theo gave a little wave when she saw he was looking at her.

Markus mounted the steps to the platform and turned to face his audience. Kurdy and Daniel followed him and moved to the back corners to watch. From that point on, reality blurred. The words poured from his mouth, without conscious thought, as if they had been predestined, and his body just the conduit.

"… We gather here today in common cause, because the desires that unite us are greater than the forces that divide us. We look with awe at the artifacts of the past, believing that we will never again know such greatness. But greatness is only a matter of will. It is the end result of patience, determination, direction and strength. And we who have grown up in the shadows of the Big Death, have those qualities in abundance."

He met as many eyes of those watching him as he could, willing them to understand, to listen -- to believe. He knew he'd always remember the strange, heady sensation that he could feel their cynicism and skepticism fade away.

"We have made mistakes, but we have learned from them. And what we have learned most is that we cannot trust our future to those who can see only the past. Tonight we stand together, united for the first time. In the coming days we will begin to carve out a framework for a new country and a new future."

The honey-blonde woman next to Theo watched him intently, and he somehow knew, looking into her face, that she was far older than she seemed. She had eyes like Teal'c, deep and wise with knowledge and strength.

"Because if we fail to do so, others will do it for us. And generations yet unborn will live to regret our failure."

Her head turned abruptly east, drawing his attention. Markus stopped speaking, as a cold veil of dread smothered his words.

Only a few seconds later, the lights all went out.

In the silence, Markus could hear the growling of approaching engines and the higher-pitched whine of helicopter rotors. Valhalla Sector had found them, despite their precautions. Now he had no time left.

He changed what he was going to say. "Remember this!" he shouted, hoping at least some of them could hear even though the sound system was dead. "Remember that we gathered here peacefully and they came to stop us. But they can't stop us from building our world as we want it. They can't stop the future."

Armored personnel carriers and jeeps crashed through the fence and rolled across the field. A helicopter swooped in and hovered overhead, drowning out his voice. An amplified voice ordered from somewhere, "This is an illegal assembly. Stay where you are and no one will be hurt!"

There was screaming as the audience started to flee, dashing in all directions.

"Get the hell down!" Kurdy grabbed his jacket, shoving him down the steps to the ground where the three huddled against the dubious cover of the platform.

Markus saw that Kurdy had a pistol, despite the weapons prohibition. He thought they had all left their guns back at Nathan's headquarters. "Where did that come from?"

"Erin," Kurdy answered shortly, his eyes on the helicopter. Ropes were thrown down and soldiers in black began to shimmy down. "I knew this was a fucking bad idea. We've got to get out of here."

Two representatives scaled the wall and headed across the field. Machine gun chatter was even louder than the rotor noise, and the two jerked and fell.

Markus heard an ominous hiss, and glanced up as the helicopter launched a rocket straight into the upper balcony. He watched, horrified, as the explosion rained debris down below. This was a response well beyond anything he had expected.

Theo stood up, a gun in her hand too. "Fuck this!" she yelled and fired up at the nearest truck, blasting away. The blonde woman yanked Elizabeth down, yelling at Theo something that was buried in the noise. Theo dropped down, partially screened by the wall as she continued to fire back, picking off soldiers as best she could, at least until she ran out of ammo.

Markus could see chips flying from the front of the concrete wall and the bench seats as bullets tracked the women. At his side, Kurdy yelled, "Elizabeth!" He dashed out into the field toward the stands, wielding his gun to try to give the women cover.

Daniel shouted Kurdy's name, trying to get him to come back, then pulled the radio out of his pocket and clicked it on. "Jack! Jack, it's Daniel!" he yelled, and didn't wait for a response. Not that he'd be able to hear it anyway. "We're under attack. St. Louis is under attack! We can't get out. I hope you're getting this. The meeting's under attack --"

Markus could only watch the battle rage around him in frozen horror. The sound faded away, and the images all seemed to slow, turning into individual pictures flipping past. He saw Kurdy nearly reach the wall and then spin around and fall into the dirt. Elizabeth tried to leap the wall to go to him, but the blonde woman held her back. Others fell and did not move. Others raised their arms in surrender. But he was also sure that he saw some people crawl over the ends of the stands and run off. When he glanced at the tunnel, Nathan and Alyssa were gone. He hoped they'd escaped to safety.

The sound of heavy footfalls broke into his awareness and he turned his head, to find six men pointing M-16's at him and Daniel.

\---+---

Jack had just reached up to touch the Goa'uld symbol and activate the ring transporter, when his radio came to life.

At first it seemed to just be noise, random and loud, like static. But Jack stiffened as he sorted out the staccato sounds of gunfire and a low tone of helicopter rotors. Then, the frantic voice of his teammate, nearly buried by the din:

"_Jack! Jack, it's Daniel! We're under attack. St. Louis is under attack! We can't get out. I hope you're getting this. The meeting's under attack_ \--" then silence.

Jack scrambled to get his radio out. "Daniel! Daniel!" he called frantically, looking helplessly at Smith who was watching him with a sad smile. "Status!"

Someone else responded. "_Who is this_?"

"Who are _you_?" Jack returned. "Where's my friend?"

"_He is a prisoner of the United States government_," the other man said sternly. "_And will soon be on trial for treason_."

"What?" Jack demanded in outrage. "What do you mean --" A soft click over the speaker silenced him. They had been cut off.

Jack stared at the radio and then swore. Daniel was captured. Since he had no one from Valhalla Sector handy, he vented on the next best person. He glared furiously at Smith, "You couldn't have just _said_ they were walking into a trap?"

"I didn't know! I didn't understand. But now you have to hurry." Smith started to wave him toward the ring controls, but abruptly stiffened. He closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth. Then he said, as though every word was a blow, "God says … the future is out of balance. Your being here has upset what was meant to be. The mountain will fall, and darkness and evil will rise up unopposed and spread across the world… " He looked up and his anguished gaze met Jack's. In that moment, Jack believed every single word.

Smith's voice softened, "If he dies… the way will be lost."

Jack knew he wasn't talking about Daniel. He nodded. "I understand."

"God says when the time comes, you must go, Jack. If you go, one will live who should die, and one will die who should live, but the balance will be restored."

Smith shook his head, holding up a hand to stop Jack from questioning him, and let out a deep breath. In a more normal tone, he added, "That's all. I'm sorry, I don't know anything more. But now you have to get Sam and Jeremiah."

Jack needed no further bidding, putting the cryptic prophecy aside for consideration later. If there was a later. He activated the ring transporter that took him deep underground. The tunnel was clean, but definitely not like the Tok'ra tunnels, and not like human-made ones either. Seth had constructed this himself.

The tunnel only went in one direction toward the compound, so Jack started at a jog. He took out the small transmitter and tried to call Carter.

"Carter, come in. Carter, we've got a major, honkin', _big_ problem."

There was a brief pause and then an answer, "Jack, this is Jeremiah. Sam hasn't come back from, uh, dinner, yet."

"Well, you need to go get her. St. Louis has been attacked. Daniel was able to call and tell me, before the soldiers confiscated the radio and told me they've been taken prisoner."

"Markus and Kurdy, too?" Jeremiah asked.

"I don't know about Kurdy," he didn't really know about Markus either, but it was pretty clear to him that was who Smith had been talking about. "But from what I heard, I think the whole damn meeting was taken."

The radio swallowed most of it, but Jack was pretty sure there was some swearing there.

Mindful of the original mission, Jack asked, "Did you find anything?"

"I wasn't looking, remember. You _neglected_ to tell me what to look for."

Jack did not have time for this sullen, teenage crap. "Well, you wouldn't recognize the naquadah anyway. But, when you were in the shed, did you happen to notice any rings or circles kinda drawn onto the floor? Please tell me you did?"

"Okay, I did."

"Damn it, Jeremiah!"

"Yes, I did," he answered slowly, as if talking to a child. Jack bristled at the insult. "I thought it was some creepy Seth worshipping thing. But there were circles in the floor."

"Good, then we've got a chance at this. Find Carter and tell her the mission's scrubbed. Get her to those rings. I'll be beneath you."

"Beneath us?"

"Yep. Carter will know how to activate them. They're kind of an elevator going to a tunnel underground. Now, hustle!"

Jack hurried down the tunnel, then he skidded to a halt, when he realized that Smith was not behind him. He'd thought the kid was going to follow him in the rings. Swearing, he turned around and went back. It'd take Carter and Jeremiah a few minutes to find a way out to the shed. He came to where he had come down, and realized that he had no idea how to activate the rings to go up.

"Smith!" he called. "Can you hear me?"

There was no answer.

The rock surface was clean. No indentations, no jewels, no buttons of any kind. Please, it couldn't be a one way elevator. Why would Seth install it going only down? Carter would be able to figure it out, he assured himself. One step at a time. Get Jeremiah and Carter out of Seth's hands.

With that decision made, he turned around and headed back to the other end.

\---+---

Jeremiah put the small receiver down, and contemplated how he was going to find Sam in this children's prison. The place gave him the creeps and the sooner they got out the better. Jack had warned him that Seth could be a bigger threat to Thunder Mountain than Valhalla and he had scoffed. But after meeting Seth, and seeing how he controlled everyone, Jeremiah was glad he didn't have to stay. That there was a drug to force someone to worship the alien easily scared the shit out of him.

Where was she? Had she gotten caught during her search? Or worse, forced into some man's bed. He'd heard plenty of the other men say they were eager for the new blood and some didn't sound very picky about willingness. How was he ever going to find her? "Please Sam, get here quick," he pleaded silently.

Not five minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Jeremiah opened it to find another man.

"I'm Ryan. I'm here to claim Sam."

Jeremiah stiffened. "She doesn't want to spend the night in anyone's bed but her own."

"Those are not the rules. She must share a bed with one of the believers. As one of Seth's top lieutenants it's my right for first dibs."

Jeremiah folded his arms. "It's my right as a brother to say you need to wait for her to get used to this place."

Ryan pushed his way in and looked around for her. "If this is your way of saying she picked someone else, let it be known I'll kill the man who usurps my authority."

"She's not with another man. She's still in the bathroom."

Suddenly Sam rushed in, through the open doorway. "I've got--" and stopped dead as she saw their guest. "I'm sorry, Jeremiah. I should have--"

"This is Ryan," Jeremiah interrupted her. "He's here to claim you for the night," he told her hoping she would know how to handle this misfortune.

After closing the door, Sam turned to face them, her eyes sparkling in excitement. Jeremiah stepped back in shock. "Me?" she said in a little-girl voice. "Just a minute, let me put my shampoo and new soap away."

Sam walked over to the closet and put something inside, using her back to shield what she carried. Turning back to the men, Sam took tentative steps towards them, wearing a soft smile. When she got within touching distance, she reached out and promptly sent a right cross that hit square on his face. His body twisted and Jeremiah added his two cents by sending another punch into Ryan's gut. Sam finished it with a doubled handed smash onto the back of his neck that sent him crashing to the floor unconscious.

"Good job, partner," Sam commented, wiping her hands on her dress.

Jeremiah couldn't help the bubble of hysterical laughter that came from his mouth. "We are so fucked."

"Hopefully he'll be out long enough for us to get out of here. I found the naquadah, now we just need to figure out how to get out of this place."

"That's not our only problem," he told her, calming down. "Jack called just now. The big meeting's been attacked. Markus and Daniel and probably Kurdy and the rest are prisoners of Valhalla Sector."

She stiffened. "We were warned," she said softly.

"No shit. We all knew going to St. Louis was a mistake for Markus, but he wouldn't call it off. He _had_ to go." It made Jeremiah want to bang his head against the wall.

"Leaders can't be seen as cowards. He'd made the commitment; he couldn't not show. I understand, although--"

"The whole thing sucks," he finished for her and let out a disgruntled breath. "Let's get the fuck out of here and go rescue them."

"You know a way?" she questioned.

"I wasn't spending all my time painting," Jeremiah told her with a little smirk. "Remember the shed I was painting today? It has rings or something. Jack's below it, in some sort of tunnel I guess."

Her eyes lit up. "Transport rings. Let's go. The sooner we get out of here the better."

"Yeah, before lover-boy wakes up." He couldn't help giving the jerk a little kick with his foot to see if he'd react.

Sam went back to the closet and took out a small pot that had a strange cover on it. Jeremiah couldn't understand why they took such risks for such a stupid thing. "That's going to get you home?"

She nodded. "And power the Mountain for the next hundred years."

Jeremiah blinked. Maybe not so stupid after all. She put the strange container down her cleavage, and he turned hastily back to the door and walked out, gazing left and right down the corridor. "Coast is clear," he told her.

The two started slowly down the hall. There was a man and woman locked in an embrace as they turned a corner. Both were so wrapped up in the other that Jeremiah doubted they'd even noticed someone had passed them.

"So far so good," Sam muttered to him as they entered the stairwell. "The real trick is going to be getting to the shed. I bet we won't be able to just walk out the front door."

Their good luck vanished as they arrived on the ground floor. There were sounds of feet running down the stairs above them and someone shouted, "Stop. Our God demands you obey me."

Jeremiah looked up through the treads and saw who was following. "It's William with some--"

"Heidi," Sam finished for him. She hauled open the door onto the main floor. "Nishta victim and general nutcase."

"Stop them!" Heidi yelled and then let loose with a blood-curdling shriek as they exited into the entrance hall

Sam abruptly halted. Jeremiah followed her gaze, seeing two armed men standing by the front door. They looked up at the sound of the screech and unholstered their weapons.

"Guess the front door is out," Jeremiah couldn't help remarking.

"Go!" Sam shoved him to the right. "Dining hall."

They ran.

Dining hall? Why the hell would she want to go to the dining hall? It was the biggest, most open room in the whole place. They'd probably make great targets for the guards to shoot at. But he took off after her anyway, hoping she had some sort of plan that he wasn't seeing.

Halfway there, an alarm started to wail, very loudly. Sam didn't stop or hesitate.

Two shots were fired hitting the wall and then the door as they ran through it.

"Hey, you, stop!" a voice yelled behind them. "In the name of Seth, stop!"

The room was as empty as Jeremiah expected. "What are we doing here?" he asked, following her, as she wound her way through the tables toward the opposite wall.

"Kitchen," Sam explained shortly, slamming through the swinging door, which nearly caught Jeremiah as it came back at him.

His eyes widened a little at the sight of the kitchen. It was huge, taking up equal space with the dining hall. There were stoves and ovens against the inner wall, sinks and chopping areas in a long island in the middle, and more preparation area on the other wall beneath the high, barred windows. Utensils and baskets were hanging from hooks on the underside of cabinets. The place was spotless, and the hint of bleach smell reminded him of standing near his mom while she was doing the laundry.

Sam yanked open two drawers, underneath the windows. "Ah, I knew they were over here." She took out a very long, very sharp looking chopping knife. When she turned, holding it in her hand, she no longer looked so helpless, despite her bare feet and shapeless dress.

The neckline of which had slid to one side, threatening to expose one breast. He averted his eyes, determined not to ogle a woman brandishing a knife, and waved a hand, "Um, you should -- "

"Right. Thanks. Stupid dress," she muttered and turned away to fix it. "You want a knife?"

"Sure." He took one from the drawer, which had a narrower blade but was also long. His head swung sharply toward the dining hall, at the sound of someone shouting:

"Try the kitchen!"

Jeremiah swung back to meet Sam's gaze. "Shit. Now what?"

"Pantry stairs," she decided and raced for the double doors at the end. But instead of going through the doors, she ran into them. "Ow!" she rebounded, and yanked at one of the handles with her free hand. The door still didn't budge.

"Damn it," Sam turned around, frantically scanning the kitchen for another way. "I was hoping someone hadn't locked it yet."

He heard the creak of the door to the dining hall and plunged to the floor, yanking Sam down with him.

They'd just barely gotten behind the island when Jeremiah heard the door open.

A young male voice said, "I don't see anybody, Priestess."

"Eric, go this way, William you go the other. We'll trap them in here," Heidi ordered.

Two sets of footsteps began to slowly come down the aisles on either side. Sam and Jeremiah pressed against the end of the island. Jeremiah knew that there was no way they wouldn't be seen as soon as the two of them came near enough. They'd have to fight -- and he _really_ didn't want to fight people with guns with only a knife.

He felt a sudden tug on his arm, and turned to see what Sam wanted. She pointed with her chin toward the cabinets to the left of the pantry door. He frowned. While one set of cabinet doors looked large enough to hold them, it was too late to go hide there. The guards would see them the instant they moved. She bit her lip in frustration that he wasn't seeing her meaning, and mimed with her hand a stabbing motion and then running to the cabinet.

Then with a shake of her head, she handed him the strange jar and told him to keep it safe. Jeremiah didn't have these great folds to hide it in, but he held it close to his chest, and put his shirt over it.

Sam gathered herself into a ready position, and he did the same, still confused but willing to follow. She obviously had a plan. They waited as the guard came nearer. She was practically sitting on Jeremiah's lap, so she wouldn't be seen. He wondered if she could feel his heart thudding as they waited.

Then, just as the boot and one jeans-clad ankle came into view, Sam sprang out, knife ready, and stabbed him in the leg.

He yelped and his gun went off, into the ceiling, sending a shower of plaster down. Sam leapt for the guard's arm, holding the gun, and forced him into a turn back toward William.

Both fired. But Jeremiah didn't have time to see what had happened. He pulled the colander off the hook next to him and threw it at the freaky woman. He followed that up with all the utensils in the drawer next to him, grabbing up two or three at a time, and pitching them, just to keep her in place--not that she looked like she wanted to move from in front of the door.

A bullet slamming into the counter made Jeremiah drop back behind the island. To his surprise there was return fire from his end of the kitchen toward the guy who'd shot at him.

Jeremiah turned, to see that Sam had the gun, her assailant was down on the floor moaning, and William and Heidi were out of sight, hiding just as they were.

"There's no way out," William called from the other end. "Surrender, and our god will be merciful."

Sam ignored him. She bent closer to Jeremiah and murmured, "Behind that cabinet is our way out. While I cover you, open the door and get in. Ready? Go."

She stood up and judiciously fired her gun to make the other two keep their heads down. Shards of granite countertop and tiles popped like popcorn.

Jeremiah ran to the cabinet, praying he wasn't going to feel a bullet any second, and flung open the doors. He'd expected either a large walk-in type closet or a garbage chute -- it was neither. There was a second door, this one metal, with some simple control buttons beside it, and behind the metal door, a small bare cabinet, set about waist height.

"Get in!" Sam shoved him from the back, and so he crawled into the space. She hit the controls on the outside with her other hand, and sprayed some more bullets into the kitchen.

The floor lurched and began to move down. Sam turned and dove in, shoving him into the opposite wall.

It was a sort of mini-elevator, he realized, going down to the basement.

A bullet struck the metal housing with a deafening crash, and Jeremiah automatically threw one arm over Sam, his hand over the back of her head, pulling her close and the other secured the jar. Another shot hit, spraying his sleeve with a hot backwash, and the lift shook.

It was going so slowly.

Sam snaked a hand free of his grip and blindly fired back through the narrowing gap between their ceiling and the outside floor.

More shots were hitting the elevator, making it swing, and Jeremiah just curled up, trying to protect Sam as much as he could, but knowing that she was between him and the opening.

Suddenly, it was pitch black. The shots also stopped. Sam pushed away from him a little ways, enough to sit up. "We have to get ready," she whispered. "I don't know if they have the key, but if they don't, they'll probably shoot the lock out and come down the stairs. You disable the dumbwaiter -- "

"The what?" he interrupted, not sure he'd heard right.

"Dumbwaiter. This thing we're in. We can't let them call it back up. I'll get the lights and see if I can block the basement door with something."

"And then what?"

"And then we hope that Seth put in a secret tunnel down here, or we're going to have a problem," she answered shortly.

That, he reflected, was likely a wild understatement.

The dumbwaiter slowed and then settled with a groan. Sam hit the door and it must have opened, since she pulled away from him and disappeared. He tried to follow, feeling his way out. He heard Sam's tentative footsteps on the floor as she worked her way along the wall toward his right.

He wondered how he was going to disable the dumbwaiter in the dark. He had his knife, and he had a vague idea that the thing must be hoisted on cables of some kind, but he couldn't figure out how to get to the cables.

After a short while, he realized it wasn't quite as pitch black as he had thought. His eyes were adjusting to light coming through a narrow strip of windows up near the ceiling. The whole complex was brightly lit outside with security lights, and the soft orange glow was coming inside.

It was enough to see a control panel next to the dumbwaiter, and the all-important 'STOP' button. He pushed it in and heard the machinery's low hum dwindle to near nothing.

Bright lights turned on, making him flinch and cover his eyes like a vampire. "Here, Jeremiah, help me," she shouted, struggling to push a metal cupboard in front of the door. He rushed over and, instead of trying to push it, together they managed to tip it over. It crashed to the concrete floor, in front of the door to the stairs.

Just as someone tried to open it. The door opened a few inches but then stopped, caught against the cupboard.

Jeremiah smirked, knowing it was going to take some doing for them to be able to push the door hard enough to get the cupboard out of the way. But his amusement faded as he looked around the basement.

Besides the giant bins of raw foodstuffs, there was a fortune in canned goods against one wall that looked barely touched. And half a wall full of bottles -- also worth a fortune if they were as old as they looked. Alcohol had been one of the first things looted after the Big Death, so there wasn't much left of the good stuff.

But unless there was something in the adjoining refrigerated room or something way at the other end of the long room, there was no way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The text of Markus' address to the St. Louis meeting, is taken directly from the episode, "Things Left Unsaid", written by JMS.


	13. Chapter 13

A heavy body slammed into the door, making Jeremiah jump and turn to look. But the cupboard shifted only a little, quivering.

Sam had gone to examine the wall of bottles. "I know the Goa'uld like the finer things, but this wine rack bugs me," she thought aloud.

Jeremiah knew what she meant. "There's too much. There must be more than a hundred bottles here." He pulled out one of the bottles, glancing at the label "And see, it's old. 1984. I know this is a weird religious cult and all, but why the hell haven't they drunk it all up by now?"

Sam pulled out another bottle and frowned at it. "Chablis. It's probably vinegar by now. You're right; Seth's not drinking this. So why is it here?" She put the bottle back and started to examine the rack closely.

"What are you doing?" he asked, hoping it was something he could help with.

"I think this rack is hiding a tunnel," she explained shortly, while she continued looking, pulling out bottles to look behind them. "No one's going to touch his private wine supply, not in this place, so they won't find it by accident."

He couldn't help a laugh. "You were serious about the secret tunnel? But come on, behind the wine rack? Isn't that a little -- oh, I don't know --"

"Cliché?" she suggested and snorted in amusement while she continued to examine the wine rack. "The colonel would say that the Goa'uld _**are**_ walking cliches, with their bad clothes, gaudy interior decorating, and dialogue right out of a B-movie. And they make stupid, arrogant mistakes. I've been in Goa'uld cells where the air ducts were big enough to crawl through and easy to climb into if you stood on something. So it's not completely silly to look for a passage."

He flinched as the door slammed into the metal cupboard again, shoving it another inch forward. "Since there's no other way out of here, please, be my guest."

Sam took out two bottles and bent to peer inside the hole where they had been. She let out a crow of triumph. "Got it! Clever, but not clever enough." Her hand disappeared inside the hole.

A gun fired.

Glass shattered.

Jeremiah ducked behind one end of the wine rack, covering his head. There was more gunfire, but since it all seemed to be hitting the bottles or the far wall, and not him, he tentatively raised his head to see where it was coming from.

Someone had managed to get a hand holding a pistol through the crack in the door, and was firing blindly.

Sam was crouching as well, half hidden by the other end of the wine rack, which had come away from the wall. One of her sleeves was stained wet and red -- he really hoped that it was wine and not blood.

"Stay down," she shouted, and raised her gun. She fired twice, the second time hitting either the gun or the hand, since there was yelling and the gun dropped to the floor.

"Come on, let's go!" Sam called, waving him over.

Not daring to get up in case there was another gun behind the door, he scuttled across the floor toward her. She pushed the wine rack out a little more, and he saw another door behind it. This one looked like a metal blast door, similar to the ones at Thunder Mountain, but the control panel beside the door was like no technology Jeremiah had ever seen -- blinking colored lights, a glowing yellow square, and a few geometric symbols.

"Oh, hell," Sam muttered. "Might've known he'd do this. Please, Jolinar, do your thing," she whispered and rose up on her knees enough to lay her hand on the yellow square. She closed her eyes, a frown of concentration between her brows.

Jeremiah reached her just as the display changed color and a mechanical groaning sound coming from the door suggested it was opening.

But the other door opened first.

It exploded, sending the heavy cupboard spinning across the concrete.

When Jeremiah could look, he whispered, "Oh shit."

Seth picked his way through the debris, barefoot. He was wearing a black satin robe, and some sort of ornate jewelry on his fingers and wrist. The red jewel in the palm facing them seemed to be glowing. Which was not as freaky as the golden flash in his eyes.

He also looked really, really pissed.

"I thought my eager hound might be exaggerating to regain my favor, but the bitch was right. She did sniff out a pair of traitors. I am… disappointed." He held up his hand, displaying the jewelry, and asked coldly, "Samantha, do you know what this does?"

She nodded once, jerkily, but seemed frozen in her low crouch. Her fingers fumbled over his. At first Jeremiah thought she was trying to hold his hand, but then he realized she was trying to take the knife beneath his fingers. He loosened his grip to let her have it.

"Good. You will feel it burn your mind," he threatened, coming a few steps closer, "unless you inform me, at once, who you are here spying for. Which Goa'uld is your master, girl?"

Her head lifted proudly. "I serve no Goa'uld. I am Tau'ri, ally of the Tok'ra, and we fight _**all**_ your kind."

He smiled a little, amused by her defiance. "You will serve me, Samantha. You and your brother. All who come to this compound serve me to the death."

Jeremiah was chilled. He had seen some scary things in his life, but nothing compared to this. Seth was so _**sure**_…

"There is nowhere to go," Seth continued. "You cannot reach the tunnel before I activate the ribbon device and you both die. But if you surrender, you will live to know the bliss."

"No thanks. How 'bout you die instead?" Jeremiah raised Sam's discarded gun and fired straight at Seth. At this range, he couldn't possibly miss.

But he did. The bullet _**bounced**_ off some invisible wall around Seth and smashed into the wine bottles.

For just a moment, all he could hear was the drip of the spilled wine and one last shard dropping to the ground. Seth's smile widened in triumph. The red jewel blazed and Jeremiah stared straight at it, figuring this was gonna be it.

_Sorry, Dad. But I guess I'll be seeing Mom and Matt soon enough…_

In his other hand, Seth raised a small golden jug with a slender spout. Greenish vapor shot out from the spout and struck Jeremiah's face with a slight, ticklish, warmth. He blinked in confusion. Wasn't there supposed to be a blast, like the one that had broken down the door? Wasn't he supposed to be dead?

But, no, he had been spared. But why?

It seemed so hard to think. What had he been doing?

He saw Seth standing in front of him, smiling in pleasure. He was so … beautiful. "Now, come to me, my children," he invited in a silky voice, holding out the jewel-decked hand and beckoning them close. "You will serve your god, Seth, as you should have all along."

It seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Jeremiah to stand up. At his side, Sam did too.

They moved closer to him and Jeremiah felt a strange sense of awe come over him to be standing so close. He'd never believed in any god before -- but now, now he understood that there was only one true god, and that god was Seth.

A jumble of thoughts ran through his brain and the urge to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness almost overwhelmed him. He was unworthy because he was holding something they had stolen from their god. It was something Seth would surely want back.

At his side, Sam also was staring at Seth, her eyes wide and a smile on her lips, clearly seeing the same vision of perfection that Jeremiah was. But of course, how could she not?

Sam whispered, "I have always wondered …"

"Yes, child?" Seth asked, reaching out to brush her cheek tenderly.

"Why the Goa'uld are so damn stupid," she said, and plunged the knife in his abdomen. He staggered back, glaring at her in a fury with a hand on the handle of the long knife. Jeremiah could only stare, shocked by the sight of his god with a knife in him. He half-expected Seth just to pull it out and stand up again as though nothing had happened, but instead he fell backward.

He had to do something. Sam had hurt Seth. She couldn't kill him--he was a god, but he had to make reparations. Carefully he withdrew the jar with the stuff in it and handed it towards Seth, begging forgiveness with his eyes, when suddenly Sam yanked him from behind. The jar slipped from his hand, crashing onto the floor. A glowing, viscous substance oozed out of the cracks.

"No!" she yelled as his body moved backwards, into the tunnel. "Damn!" she muttered angrily, as she smashed the control panel.

"How could you?" he demanded. "Sam, stop. We have to go back and make sure he's okay…"

"Stop!" Seth yelled, "Stop them!"

Jeremiah tried to pull away from Sam's grip, but she shoved him in front of her into the tunnel, as the door started to slide closed behind them.

"We have to stop, we have to obey," he said frantically. "I can't just leave him!"

"He'll be fine. Come on."

He was pushed further away from the light.

"You are going to feel like such an idiot, Jeremiah, just as soon as I get my hands on a zat," she muttered, while continuing to shove him forward and not relenting an inch. "And if you fight me, I will knock you out and drag you, so don't make me."

A faint high-pitched whine came to his ears. "Get down!" she yelled and tackled him to the floor.

The ground shook, and Jeremiah's ears rang at the crash of something exploding against the closing door. A blast of fire and heat passed over his head, and he coughed when he tried to breathe and found the air was full of dust.

With loud grinding sound of metal scraping rock, the door rolled closed behind them. It got very dark and quiet, and to Jeremiah it felt like the world had come crashing down around his ears again. He was in the dark, kept away from his god… how was he supposed to live?

"Jeremiah, get up," Sam pulled on his arm, but he refused to move. "Would you get up?" she demanded impatiently. "Sometime this year, maybe?"

His misery abruptly shifted to anger and he surged up to his feet, shoving her into the wall. He held her there, trapped between his body and the wall, with a hand around her throat. "You hurt our god. You deceived and stole from him. You are a heretic, and you deserve to die."

"Don't make me hurt you," she warned. "I will."

But he could feel the pounding of her heart, and hear her panting breaths, and he knew she was afraid. He smiled in the dark. Seth would want to see her fear and make her serve him. He certainly wouldn't want Jeremiah to kill her himself.

His hand eased its grip.

"Good," she said, coughing a little and sounding relieved. "Now look, the door's closed and we can't go back that way. We'll go to the end together, and then -- "

She stopped speaking abruptly, as his fingers trailed down her soft skin to the top of her dress in front. "What -- what are you doing?" she asked, trying to make it a demand, but it came out startled and afraid.

"You aren't really my sister, Sam. I thought we should fulfill his commandment of unity."

Her hand came up and knocked his away, trying to push him off. "Stop it. This isn't you, Jeremiah. It's the drug -- "

"It is the bliss of Seth," he retorted and grabbed a handful of cloth and tried to pull it down over her shoulders. "All must take part."

"You don't want to do this," she warned. But inflamed by the feel of her skin and the near heat of her body, he didn't care. His lips found her shoulder, as his hand reached between the folds of her robe.

She shifted position. He briefly felt her grip him and then he was stumbling back from her, his head bursting into pain from a blow to the jaw and then a worse explosion as her knee came up hard between his legs.

He folded, gasping, and barely noticed when she grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him staggering after her down the tunnel, feeling her way with her other hand.

"Sorry, but I think you'd prefer that to what you were gonna do," she said, and he barely heard, still trying to remember how to breathe.

His god was going to be so disappointed in him.

\---+---

As Sam walked, marching Jeremiah along with her, she tried to focus on rescuing Daniel and Markus from Valhalla Sector. The naquadah was gone and she just had to accept it. Remembering the high-grade metallic substance ooze along the floor made her want to cry or scream, but she couldn't. There was another mission now, one that took top priority. Valhalla wasn't going to be an easy place to breach. They'd have to figure out something else to power the gate later.

But in the dark, it was hard not to remember. For that one instant, when Jeremiah had started touching her, his weight pinning her against the wall, panic had lodged in her throat, trapping her breath. She had become very aware that she was wearing practically nothing.

She didn't blame Jeremiah. She remembered all too well being under the influence of nishta herself, and how much she had wanted to please Seth. That had been bad enough, but at least it was only embarrassing remembering how much she had fawned over him. She hadn't actually done anything to regret, not like what Jeremiah had started.

She felt that odd tingling sensation that meant she was near naquadah and pulled her thoughts out of what might have been, to concentrate on she had to do next.

Her fingers lost the wall at her left, and though she found it again, she realized that the tunnel had widened a little. Continuing to trail her fingers along the wall, she found that the tunnel ended in a round room, about the size of a set of transport rings.

Toggling the small button on her radio to activate it, she called, "Colonel, it's Carter. Do you read?"

"_Carter_?" she heard in her ear. "_It's about time. Where are you_?"

"We're at the end of a tunnel from the basement, heading east," she reported. "We could be under the shed, but I'm not sure how far we've come. There are definitely transport rings nearby."

"_Then I think I'm right below you_," he answered. "_I'm in another tunnel running from beneath a silo out in the fields about two clicks east of the shed. Can you see the ring controls_?"

"No, sir. It's really dark in here."

"_I've got a flashlight and controls. So stand clear and I'll come get you_."

She pulled Jeremiah back into the tunnel, well outside the rings. He suddenly shouted, "You won't escape from Seth! He'll find us."

Sam heard a resigned sigh over the comm. "_Our boy got nishta'd, didn't he_?"

"Yes, sir. We're clear. Go ahead."

The rings flashed, blindingly bright, and when she could see again, O'Neill was there, a flashlight in his hand. He played the beam over her and grimaced in concern. "You okay, Carter?"

She glanced down, noticing the wine stain and the smears of dirt on her dress, and tried a smile. "I'm fine. It's not exactly regulation, is it?"

"Not exactly, no. But we'll get back to our packs and find you some clothes as soon as we get out of this place. Here, take this." He slipped out of his jacket and handed it to her. After she'd put it on, he handed her his M9. She was amazed by how much better she felt with some warm clothes and the sidearm in her hand.

"And as for you -- " he started turning the light on Jeremiah.

He slouched sullenly against the wall, watching them. "Seth will find you. And then he'll punish you as the traitors and spies --"

"Yeah, yeah," Jack groused, "we'll have to endure the 'bliss of Seth'. I remember." He glanced at her. "When did he get whammied?"

"Only a few minutes ago," she answered.

His lips twisted in annoyance. "So we have to live with Mr. Brainwashed for another hour before I can zat him?" The question being rhetorical, she didn't bother to answer. He went on, "Never mind. He's a zat virgin, he'd probably pass out, and we don't have time for that. Just keep an eye on him, Carter. Try to keep him out of trouble."

She agreed, and she pulled Jeremiah into the middle. O'Neill located the controls and pushed the button marked in Goa'uld meaning 'Down'.

The rings came down from the ceiling, dropping around them, and she felt the familiar whoosh of the rings charge through her body.

They arrived in a place exactly like the one they had just left, except the tunnel stretched off in the opposite direction.

"Let's go," O'Neill said. "Seth knows where these come out, so we don't have a lot of time."

Jeremiah looked stunned by what had just happened, and Sam took advantage, pushing him through the tunnel. They followed behind O'Neill and his flashlight.

At the end of the tunnel, O'Neill waved the light around. "Now, please tell me you see controls to go back up, cuz I sure don't. But there has to be a way out."

The controls were hidden, she realized, just as the others had been hidden behind the wine rack. Seth knew where they were, but anyone else trying to escape this way -- even another Goa'uld, such as an ashrak sent to assassinate him or a Tok'ra -- would have to stop and look, thereby increasing the chances of capture.

She took the flashlight from O'Neill. "Y'know, colonel, I think this Seth is smarter than the one we had. It's a different host, maybe it makes more of a difference than we've always thought."

"Seth is a god, of course he --" Jeremiah insisted, and would have said more, except that O'Neill casually clasped a hand over his mouth from behind and held him still.

She suspected he was rolling his eyes, totally ignoring Jeremiah, when he replied, "Considering that most Goa'ulds keep their hosts for thousands of years, Carter, it's not a theory we're likely to test often. In fact, besides the Tok'ra, Seth's the only one I can think of who changes hosts like he changes clothes."

She left the Tok'ra comment alone, figuring it was not the time to argue. "Well, he doesn't have a sarcophagus, so I guess he has no choice. But I do think it's interesting that this compound is set up differently than the one in Washington." A suspiciously straight crack drew her attention and she put her flashlight on it, tracing the dimensions of a small rectangular panel, disguised with the same rock facing as everything around it. "Ah, here it is."

She put her fingers in the crack and tried to pull the cover off. When that failed, she tried pressing in various places, hoping to release a catch.

"Not to rush you or anything," O'Neill said, tension in his voice, "but it'd be nice if we could go now, Carter. We're no more than half a mile from the compound."

"I know, I know, I've almost got it." The last part was optimistic, she knew, but hopefully it would be true soon. But nothing was working. She hit the panel with her fist, to no apparent effect. "Damn it." She inhaled a deep breath and tried to think it through, rather than resorting to brute force. Pulling and pushing didn't work, hitting it didn't work -- maybe it was keyed to naquadah just like the wine rack control.

She laid her hand on it, and heard the tell-tale whine and saw the glow at her feet of an activating ring apparatus. "Here we go."

The rings piled on top of themselves all around them, and then whooshed them all upward.

When the light from the rings faded, she breathed in fresh air and knew they were finally on the surface. There was a faint smell of dust and straw in the air.

She and O'Neill had their weapons out and ready, and she swept the area around with her flashlight. The place was deserted. "Clear," she reported in a low voice.

The colonel concurred with a nod, and went to slip on his pack, leaving her to cover Jeremiah.

"You haven't escaped yet. My god is powerful," he said, with a beatific smile. "He will rise up and come after you. You will never be able to escape his wrath."

O'Neill groaned in aggravation. "Wrath, wrath, wrath. Carter, why is it always wrath? How come it's never anger, or fury, or sheer pissiness?" He handed her a pair of socks and took the flashlight from her, putting it in his pocket. "Hurry. I don't see our friend."

"Friend, sir?" She asked, sitting on the ground and pulling on the socks, only then realizing how cold her feet were. She also found her spare BDU pants and yanked them on while the two men were occupied with forcing Jeremiah to wear his own backpack. She shuddered to think how weird it must look with the bottom half of the dress still flapping around the pants, but she wasn't entering any beauty contests and she was a lot warmer.

"Yeah, our talking-to-God buddy. And I don't mean Mister Wrath here," he poked Jeremiah in the side with his gun. "Smith was with me before I went through the rings. God probably told him there was gonna be a firefight here and he skedaddled."

Once she was dressed, she went to the doorway and peeked around the edge to take a look outside. At first she saw nothing, but then glancing west back toward the house, she saw a number of figures silhouetted against the bright lights of the compound heading their way.

Ducking back, she reported in a murmur, "At least five, coming this way on foot. Fifty meters."

"Let's lose 'em in the corn stalks," he ordered. "Watch our boy."

He moved out first, soft and low, weapon out and ready. Tucking her gun in her sash, she grabbed Jeremiah's arm and quickly forced it behind him, and slapped her hand over his mouth. "March," she breathed into his ear. "If you call them on us, I'll use you as a shield and you'll die first. So don't do it."

He went with such acquiescence that she knew he was just biding his time. But he went, and they followed O'Neill's quiet progress away from the silo into the nearest field.

The ground was still very cold, despite the colonel's socks, and some of the fallen stalks and old cobs were sharp. She walked, hoping she wouldn't cut her feet, but ultimately she knew that going forward quickly would be better than slowly.

Yet another thing to put against Seth's account. The damn Goa'uld had stolen her favorite boots.

She wished she had something to cover her hair knowing it was probably shining in the moonlight like a beacon. She couldn't crouch much either, since she had to keep control of Jeremiah and he wasn't exactly cooperating.

Suddenly he made a break for it, turning his head sharply to free his mouth and he shouted, "Over here! Over --" She slapped her hand over his mouth again, but the damage was done.

Shouting and the snapping of old corn stalks, along with the sweeping beams of flashlights, told her that there were a lot more than five men in the fields with them.

There was a rustling close by to her left, she turned, and saw an unfamiliar man rise up not twenty feet away. He had a zat she saw to her surprise, just as O'Neill fired. The man staggered back and fell, letting off one wild shot with his zat.

Blue lightning streamed out, hitting Jeremiah and her. Jeremiah sagged in her grip and she nearly dislocated his arm, not letting go of his wrist in time. The sharp stinging pain went through her, but luckily it was only a glancing strike so it passed over her and was gone.

"Wha --" Jeremiah moaned on the ground, stirring feebly.

"Come on," she tugged at him urgently. "Get up! Hurry!"

"Sam?" he frowned at her in confusion, but followed without any more questions. The drugged haze was gone from his eyes, even though she knew it would come back. For any electical charge to completely clear the body of the nishta, the organism had to be allowed to establish itself in the body fully, which took about an hour. Anything less, and the nishta would return.

She helped him up and kept a hand on him for support, as they ran.

They played hide-n-seek in the corn stalks, for what seemed like hours, staying one step ahead of the searchers. For all their numbers, Seth's men were inexperienced. O'Neill eluded their clumsy attempts at encirclement, and left them blundering around in the dark, sure that the three of them should be somewhere nearby. But they were long gone, running between two rows and putting distance between them.

They'd come out onto a narrow dirt road between fields, and stopped to take a short rest, when Jeremiah stumbled for no obvious reason. He retained just enough of himself to look at her with desperation in his eyes, "It's coming back -- "

That gave her just enough warning to clap a hand over his mouth as he gave a little shudder.

"Back to worshipful minion?" O'Neill whispered. She nodded. He thought about it for a few seconds and then rooted around in his pack. He came up with a cloth, which he usually used to wipe down his guns if they got wet, and stuck it in Jeremiah's mouth, tying it securely at the back of his head. Then the colonel sat back on his heels, examining his handiwork. Jeremiah made some noise, objecting, but the sound was muffled by the gag. His eyes blazed in fury.

O'Neill patted him on the head. "There," he murmured to her. "That should keep 'til we reach the jeep. It's not far now."

She was glad the colonel knew where they were, since she had long since lost her sense of direction. The bright lights of Seth's compound were only occasionally visible behind the hedges and dried out stalks, and even the stars and moon slipped behind the clouds leaving the field very dark.

O'Neill decided it was safer to turn on his flashlight, pointing it nearly straight down, when he nearly fell into an empty irrigation trench.

But finally when they reached a group of trees, Sam realized they were very close to the car. Jeremiah knew it too, and he finally made a move at a heavily trod path that cut back toward the compound. He broke free of Sam's light grip on his shoulder, and started running.

She ran after him, but O'Neill passed her and tackled him to the ground. "Nope, don't think so. You're not going back after all we've been through to get you and Carter out. We've got some other people to rescue, and you're gonna want to be part of it, not trapped in there with the snakehead for the rest of your life."

Jeremiah wailed and struggled, pounding the ground with his fists. But O'Neill sat on him, refusing to be dislodged, and eventually managed to tie his hands behind his back. He pulled Jeremiah to his feet and marched him back to Sam.

"I can't wait to zat him," he muttered, and she had to smile in agreement.

After that, it was easy enough to find the jeep. Sam pulled off the netting and dropped it, along with her pack in the back.

"Carter, you drive, I'll hang in the back with Mr. Altar Boy until it's time to zat him back to normal."

She found the keys in the pouch under the seat where Jeremiah had hidden them, and started the car, while O'Neill pushed Jeremiah in and followed in himself.

About half an hour later of driving meant to put off anyone trying to follow them, after it seemed like any danger had stayed behind them, she pulled the jeep behind a deserted and long-since looted gas station on the edge of a village. "I think we can shelter here," she suggested. "Doesn't look like anybody's been here in years."

O'Neill gave it a look and nodded. He flipped open the cover on his watch. "You stay here with him, and I'll go take a look around, just in case we're not as alone as we think."

He slipped out into the darkness, gun drawn, and was gone for only a few minutes of tense silence. He returned. "Empty as a tomb."

"Not like Marduk's I hope," she joked, following him and Jeremiah inside with their gear.

"Okay, empty like a tomb is _**supposed**_ to be," he corrected himself with exaggerated precision. He shone his flashlight on the interior of what was once the snack shop. It was completely empty except for some metal shelves and the dirt and other detritus that had blown in through the broken windows.

They set up in the smaller, more protected cashier's area. O'Neill put Jeremiah against the back wall, activated his zat and without any fanfare, fired it. Bright blue lightning shot out, and Jeremiah yelled behind his gag, before succumbing. His legs gave out and his eyes rolled back, as he slumped to the floor.

"He should be clear, right?" O'Neill glanced at her for confirmation.

"He was under more than an hour. More than we were, so it should be fine." All the different ways it might not be fine crossed her mind, but she didn't say any of them. O'Neill didn't really want to know, and they would find out in a few minutes anyway.

O'Neill untied Jeremiah's hands and undid the gag. There was nothing left to do but wait. Sam recounted her "Dog ate my symbiote" tale, which made them both laugh, relieving some of her tension.

When the lump next to Sam began moaning, O'Neill bent over and patted him on the arm.

"Wakey wakey, little minion," O'Neill teased.

Jeremiah groaned and shuddered before reluctantly opening his eyes. "Oh, that was one weird-ass dream," he muttered, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"No dream," O'Neill said, not without sympathy, as he gave Jeremiah a hand to pull up to a sitting position. "You really were Seth's … um, devoted slave."

"Crap. It was real?" His eyes flicked to her and then quickly away. "Christ… I … I am so sorry, Sam."

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Nothing happened, Jeremiah. And believe me, I know what it's like to have that stuff in you, making you do whatever he wants. So it's forgotten." She knew the attempted assault was foremost in his mind, but soon the realization that he had lost the naquadah would occur to him, too. Maybe it would be better not to tell the colonel they'd had it at all.

O'Neill glanced from one to the other, but asked no questions.

"So you got a call from Daniel?" Sam prompted. "What did he say?"

O'Neill frowned, tapping his knees with his hands. "At first he didn't say anything, I just heard helicopters and guns. And then he yelled that the meeting was under attack and they couldn't get out. A bit later there was this other voice, said that Daniel was a prisoner of the United States and would be put on trial for treason."

Her eyes widened in horror. Jeremiah hadn't told her all of that.

"Shit," Jeremiah leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. He opened them again as a sudden thought struck. "So what'd Erin say? What are they gonna do up at the mountain?"

O'Neill raised his eyebrows and gave a little shrug. "Don't know. I haven't talked to anyone up there. I was just a little busy, y'know, saving your ass."

Jeremiah shot to his feet, agitated. "You do realize they might not even know, don't you? Daniel might have been the only one with a radio. We've got to tell them."

He made an abrupt movement as if he intended to go back to the jeep, but O'Neill held up a hand to stop him. "Hold on, I've got it." O'Neill pulled the radio out of his pack and reset the frequency. He clicked it on. "Eagle's Nest, this is SG1 leader. Eagle's Nest, this is SG1 leader. Do you read? Over."

The answer came back, with an unfamiliar male voice. "_Eagle's Nest. We hear you. Go ahead."_

O'Neill hesitated a moment and then clicked the channel open again. "Is there any news from the eagle? Over."

"_Negative. No communication with the eagle __or any of his flock. Over," _the comm-person responded.

He shared a glance with Sam, as they both realized that Jeremiah had been right -- Thunder Mountain didn't know, and O'Neill was going to have to tell them. He sighed a little and then said, being careful to speak clearly, "Eagle's Nest, I need to speak with Erin or Murray. It's very important I speak with Erin or Murray right now. Over."

"_Stand by."_

They waited, while someone fetched the requested parties to the communications room. The seconds seemed to click by at half-speed. Jeremiah didn't sit down, but nor did he move, apparently frozen just as Sam was. She had intended to get out a shirt and change out of the stupid dress, but she couldn't move.

Terrible thoughts kept running through her mind. Daniel, a prisoner, on trial for treason? The big meeting attacked. The representatives, prisoners or dead? And what about Markus?

What if the attack was just the beginning, and Valhalla Sector meant to go after Thunder Mountain as well? What if the traitor in the mountain was, even now, going after Teal'c? Or sabotaging the air system so the whole mountain would suffocate on its own carbon dioxide?

She realized she was winding the bottom of the dress in her fingers anxiously, but couldn't make herself stop, until Erin's familiar voice came over the radio.

"_This__ is Erin._ _What's happened?"_

He clicked the radio. "Go private, Erin. I've got some news you should hear yourself, first. Over."

There was a long silence and then she responded, her tone now clearly worried. "_All right, no one else can hear. Go ahead."_

O'Neill repeated almost word for word exactly what he had just told Jeremiah about the attack and Daniel's and the Valhalla soldier's words. He finished up, saying, "Daniel and Markus, and probably Kurdy and everyone else who was there are now either prisoners or dead. Some people might have escaped, I don't know, but I don't think it's a good sign no one's contacted you."

Jeremiah leaned over and plucked the radio out of his hand. "Erin, it's me. We're going to go rescue them, right? You've got guns; we can go after them. We can't just let them rot in there!"

When she finally spoke, Erin sounded shaken. "_No, of course not. We're not going to let our friends be prisoners, and hurt or -- oh God -- killed. But I don't know -- I can't -- Damn it, I told him this was going to happen. I told him!"_ She fell silent for a moment, gathering herself together. "_What exactly did you hear about Markus_? _How can you be sure he's captured?_"

O'Neill grabbed the radio back, tossing a glare at Jeremiah for stealing it in the first place. When he spoke, he seemed to choose his words carefully. "Erin, SG1 leader again. Nothing specific. But Daniel would have been close to him, so it's reasonable that they're together. Plus I think he would've said something if Markus was hurt."

Sam shot him a look, uncertain that he should be so definite to Erin, in case he was wrong in his assumptions. Daniel might not have been as close to Markus as the colonel believed. But maybe he was just trying to give her something to hope for.

It seemed to have worked, when she responded more calmly, "_Okay, that's something. I guess. With a little luck someone from the meeting will still get in contact with more details."_

O'Neill said, when it seemed she had fallen silent, "I scrubbed our mission so we can help with the rescue. What do you want us to do? Over."

_"Come on back," _she said._ "We'll get started planning something --_ "

He cut her off, keying the radio. "No can do, remember. Not while my twin is sitting there, which I assume he still is. We should meet outside. Bring Murray. And anybody else you think could be helpful. Over."

Her voice sounded steadier, when she answered, recalled to her duty now that the first shock had passed. "_Right. Okay. We'll meet at …"_ There was a pause as she thought about a place, "_At a town on the border where Jeremiah and Kurdy found the creepy dolls. The bowling alley at the edge of town. Ten o'clock should give you time to get there._"

O'Neill glanced aside at Jeremiah for confirmation that he understood the coded reference. Jeremiah nodded once.

"We copy, Erin," O'Neill answered. "1000 hours at Chucky's rock and bowl. Got it. Oh, and can you bring a pair of shoes for Carter, size eight? She, um, lost hers. Thanks. Over."

"_Shoes?" _Erin repeated in confusion, then realized it was the least of her worries. "_Okay. Will do. See you there. Eagle's Nest, over and out."_ And she was gone.

Jeremiah answered, when O'Neill turned a curious look toward him. "The place had a sort of reputation as a cursed place, so that's why we went to check it out. Somebody had put dolls in the windows of all the houses. It was freakin' Kurdy out, so we went through and gathered them up into just one house. Town's called Stoneridge, on the border of Kansas and Colorado. Erin must have remembered the story." Then he frowned. "Where the hell are we?"

"About twenty miles from Seth's place," Sam answered. "More exactly than that I've got no idea. I was just driving."

"Well, we're gonna have to figure it out. Night driving isn't exactly going to be fast, so we'll have to leave soon to make the rendezvous." O'Neill glanced at his bedroll with a wistful look, but climbed to his feet. "Erin's not letting grass grow under her feet, and neither should we. Carter, get changed. Jeremiah, you and I are gonna look around and see if we can figure out where we are."

Very shortly, the men were gone, and after Sam had quickly changed into her spare set of clothes, she balled up the dress and threw it in the far corner. Maybe it could be useful as a nest for mice or something, because she was never going to touch it again.

She put on her utility vest and slid her sidearm into its holster, and felt a lot better. She'd been out of her depth in Seth's compound, hit by unaccustomed fear. But rescuing Daniel from the clutches of evil?

Been there, done that. She could do it again.


	14. Chapter 14

Erin opened the door to the communications room and went out. Joaquin and Lisa were waiting in the corridor.

"You can go back in, thanks, guys," Erin said absently.

God, what was she going to do?

"Are you okay?" Lisa asked her.

It was Erin's first instinct to say that no, she wasn't okay. St. Louis had been attacked, and Markus could be a prisoner of Valhalla Sector or dead. How could she possibly be okay?

"I'm fine," Erin said. Then she turned around to face them. "If you get a signal from Nathan or any of the teams that went to St. Louis, call me right away, okay? There might be … some kind of trouble." She stumbled on the last part.

Lisa nodded, now somber-faced, and Joaquin said, "Sure, Erin. No problem."

Erin left them, her mind and body in shock, oblivious to everything around her.

How would she free Markus? She knew what she _**wanted**_ to do, and that was take every gun and every bomb in Thunder Mountain's arsenal, and fall on Valhalla Sector like a pack of ravenous wolves and not relent until they set Markus free.

But she couldn't do that. She didn't know enough. She didn't really know _**anything**_ yet. Above that though, Markus would never want her to gamble the lives of everyone in Thunder Mountain in a useless, reckless attempt to free him. She had to take care of his people first, that was what she had promised, though she wished she could do something else.

She continued down the hall, striving to gain control of her emotions, knowing that she would need her sense of balance if she were think of some kind of workable plan. The hall clock read ten o'clock. She had twelve hours to gather a team and get to Stoneridge.

Erin blinked. Of their own volition, her feet had carried her to Markus' office. Slowly, she opened the door and entered. Tears welled in her eyes as bent over to pick up a discarded sweatshirt and buried her nose in the fabric trying to capture the last remnants of his scent. She felt numb, yet if she were honest with herself she'd have to admit that she'd known this was going to happen all along. Why hadn't Markus listened to her? Anger began to replace the shock -- anger at Markus for putting himself in the situation, anger at herself for feeling so strongly and mostly at Valhalla Sector for daring to disrupt the first good thing to happen to the country since the old people had destroyed it.

Energized, Erin abruptly stood up and marched out of his office. The first order of business was to find Murray and tell him that his friend was taken. Perhaps with his advice she'd figure out what to do.

He was easy enough to find, giving some martial arts lessons to Dimitri, Carl, and Terence. But with a courteous bow of his head to his students, he left them to follow her back to Markus' office.

She told him the whole story. He seemed neither surprised nor upset by the news, but accepted it calmly. "What are your plans?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted. "We need to confirm that it's true. Not that I doubt what Jack heard," she added quickly, seeing him lift his head as if offended, "but Daniel didn't really say all that much. Plus, we need to know _**where**_ they were taken in order to do much of anything. We'll meet the others in Stoneridge."

"Will they not take Markus Alexander to Valhalla Sector itself?" Murray asked.

The words struck like a lash, because of course they would. The others from the meeting could be anywhere, but Markus was far too notorious to ignore. He'd be taken to Valhalla Sector. To be held prisoner, interrogated, and possibly tortured, until they decided to execute him for treason.

She looked at the small pots of African violets lined up against the window, and thought about him never coming back to care for them again. She wrapped her arms around herself. "I can't just do nothing!" she burst out. "I can't leave him in there."

"We will leave neither Markus Alexander nor Daniel Jackson captive," Murray declared. It was comforting how certain he was.

She nodded. "We won't. But I can't think of how to get them out."

He considered for a moment. "I believe Lee Chen will be a valuable asset in retrieving Markus Alexander and Daniel Jackson. He should go with us to Stoneridge."

Her first instinct was to say over her dead body. Lee was a traitor to the mountain, and she couldn't trust him outside his cell. But she remembered his face, and she believed he wanted to help. But she'd believed him for five years, and never once guessed that he had any other loyalties, so her instincts were obviously suspect. Markus wouldn't want her to jeopardize everyone's safety for him. Lee knew too much. But if he really was on their side, then she needed what he knew about Valhalla. "I don't know..." she answered, unable to decide.

Murray nodded in his regal way. "I will leave you alone to consider. May I have permission to talk to Majors Kawalsky and O'Neill? When we attempt our rescue, it would be best to have an accurate description of Valhalla's defenses."

Erin nodded. "Sure."

Murray left the room. Erin sunk into the chair, overwhelmed with the responsibility now on her shoulders. How would she know the right decision? Could she trust Lee? Should she trust the opinions of these travelers from another reality? Markus was depending on her to do the right thing.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. The numbers were barely discernable through her tired eyes. But she couldn't sleep -- she had to think, had to come up with something. What did Markus do when he had to make difficult decisions? Meaghan! He talked things over with her. Maybe the woman would have some insights on what to do.

Meaghan was still awake and reading a book as Erin entered. The older woman glanced up with a ready smile, which faded fast. She set her book aside and rose to her feet. "What's happened? Is Markus--"

"Valhalla's got him. Jack radioed us," she explained in a rush.

Meaghan caught the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip. "What happened?" she demanded in a tight, controlled voice.

"Daniel was only able to get a message to him during the meeting that they were attacked by a hell of a lot soldiers and they were trapped. Jack said he heard gunfire and helicopters. Markus is probably on his way to Valhalla right now." Erin leaned against the glass, not able to look Meaghan in the eyes as she whispered her greatest fear. "Or he's dead."

"He's not dead," Meaghan said.

Erin glanced up, struck by her certainty. "You can't know that."

"I do know. I would know if he was dead," Meaghan folded her arms tightly around herself and looked away, as if she could almost see him. "We're too much a part of each other not to know. But captured --" She inhaled a deep, steadying breath, and faced Erin again. "That's possible. We talked about it before he left."

"Then why did he go?" Erin burst out. "He knew! I told him, everybody told him -- "

"Of course he knew," Meaghan answered calmly. "But this is his dream, Erin, what he's lived for since the day the virus ripped everyone's lives apart. There was no way he was going to sit at home, if being there might make it work."

Erin nodded, miserably. "But now it's all fallen apart anyway. He's in their hands, and the meeting's destroyed, with who knows how many dead among the other leaders. And I don't know what to do."

"Get Markus out," Meaghan said flatly. "Any way you have to."

Erin was a little surprised at Meaghan's flinty expression. She wasn't all torn up with grief, as Erin expected, but nor was she focused on the safety of the mountain, as Erin knew Markus would be. She had one single desire, and that was to bring Markus home.

"I know," Erin said. She sat heavily in the gray vinyl chair last occupied by Markus and looked upward at Meaghan. "But where should I start?"

"What are your choices?" Meaghan asked.

"Murray wants me to release Lee from his cell and get him to help us. Jack, Sam and Jeremiah are on their way back and we're supposed to meet them near the Kansas border. We'll figure out a plan to get into Valhalla Sector, somehow."

"Where is Valhalla Sector?"

Erin shrugged. "Back east someplace. I don't know."

"Who does?"

"Lee," Erin admitted. "And the two Markus had brought in, Major Jack O'Neill and Major Kawalsky."

Meaghan's folded-arm posture shifted to something more thoughtful. She paced down the length of the window. "So, our Jack is a good guy, is it possible Major Jack is one, too?"

"Murray thinks so. He's been spending a lot of time in the brig talking to them."

"So, you could ask them to help with the rescue."

Erin nodded, although reluctantly. "I just don't know how much I can trust them."

Meaghan smiled a little. "And what would Markus say?"

Erin knew the answer to that one, having heard it not long ago when Markus had brought in Theo from the outside. She heaved a sigh, knowing Meaghan was right. "He'd say that we have to give trust in order to get any."

"I suspect sitting in cells isn't making them more willing to help us," Meaghan pointed out. "And if they're going to betray us, better to find out now, than when they're on their way to Valhalla Sector."

Erin's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting they go there? That's so … risky…"

Meaghan shrugged and turned to sit in her armchair, tucking her robe around her legs. "If they're going to help with the rescue, it only stands to reason they'd have to go to Valhalla. They're not doing us any good sitting in jail. Either they really are on our side, in which case they'll help, or if they're not, we're best rid of them. Because Markus is right -- Valhalla Sector is going to come here, Erin. And I think we'd better find out everyone's true loyalties before then."

Erin looked at her for a moment, realizing where Markus got his practical side. This woman was how a sheltered child prodigy had managed to blossom into a leader.

But she had a good idea. It could work. Of course, it could also fail horribly.

Her gaze met Meaghan's. "Their reception in Valhalla might not be very friendly, even if they go in."

Meaghan shrugged again. Their fate didn't seem to bother her very much. "It's a risk. They'll have to decide if they're willing to take it."

"All right. That's the best idea I've got. Thanks, Meaghan." Erin got back to her feet, feeling better now that she had at least the glimmers of a plan.

"Wait, Erin! Keep me informed," she pleaded.

"Of course. As soon as I find out anything I'll let you know."

\---+---

Lee listened as Murray told them how Valhalla had attacked the St. Louis meeting. He was surprised only by the amount of force Waverly had sent against it. The general must have felt even more threatened than Lee had thought.

He looked over at the two majors to see their reaction. While they didn't look stunned at the news, he could see that it troubled them. Lee himself was worried. He knew Waverly and Simmons. Neither would go easy on anyone found at the meeting, but especially not Markus. He turned his eyes on Murray. "We have to rescue them."

"Indeed." Murray turned to the two majors. "Any information you can give me about the layout of Valhalla and its defenses would be beneficial."

"You can't be serious?" O'Neill responded incredulously. "The place is a bunker. You can't break in. If they see any kind of threat, they can close it down so it's impenetrable for a set length of time."

Murray was not impressed. "I have been in bunkers before. There is always a way. We must be sure not to force them into a lock down. Do you know of any secret tunnels or passages?"

"There is one," Lee volunteered, "but I don't know where it is. Devon does."

"The question is if Waverly and Simmons do, too," Kawalsky put forth.

"Colonel Frank Simmons?" Murray asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yep. Know him?" O'Neill asked.

"We have met. We are not friends."

Kawalsky snorted. "He's no one's friend."

Lee saw Murray straighten, as if he had a sudden thought.

"Is there a Jacob Carter at Valhalla?"

Kawalsky and O'Neill exchanged glances. O'Neill shrugged his shoulders. "Never heard of him, why?"

Just then the door burst open, and Erin entered.

"Erin Gant. Have you made a decision?" Murray asked.

"Yes," she answered, opening the cell and letting Lee out. "Come on, we need to talk."

Lee felt an overwhelming sense of relief. They were going to accept his help. He really needed to help rescue Markus; to prove to everyone he wasn't a traitor -- at least not to Thunder Mountain.

\---+---

Teal'c saw how Erin's face glowed with renewed hope. She led them to a conference room, which had a large map of the country spread out on a table.

She asked, "Lee, where's Valhalla?"

Lee pointed to an area in western Virginia. "There."

Erin started, "I don't have everything worked out, but--"

"That's okay, tell us what you've got," Lee encouraged her. "We can help."

"I have a question for both of you though, first. Do you think our "guests" are really on our side?" she asked.

Teal'c considered her question very seriously. "I am certain of Major Kawalsky. He seemed profoundly affected by Markus Alexander's speech, and he has been helpful."

She bit her lip. "But not Major O'Neill?"

"He has not been put in a position where I can verify his change of heart," Teal'c acknowledged. "I believe he has. But he hesitates, not certain where his loyalty should go."

"Would it help if I let them out?" she asked.

Teal'c nodded, now suspecting what she intended. "Indeed. I believe it is the imprisonment which hinders his conversion."

Erin turned to Lee. "What do you think?"

"You know what I think, Erin. It's dangerous to let them out." She let out an involuntary bark of laughter, clearly expecting that answer. But Lee wasn't finished. "That said," he hesitated, "if anyone -- anyone _else_ \-- was going to turn coat from Valhalla Sector, it'd be them. They've kept to their principles and been punished for it. The brass has considered them expendable for a long time."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. That's good enough for me. Here's the plan." She looked at both of them in turn. "I'm going to let them out. They'll get a choice -- they can help us, or we put them outside. And they help us by going back into Valhalla Sector and freeing Markus and anyone else with him."

"It won't be that easy," Lee cautioned. "There's a mole in here. He's probably seen the other O'Neill walking the corridors. Plus, they know I've been compromised."

"I know it won't be easy--"

"It is a beginning, one we can build on," Teal'c interrupted, to prevent her from growing disheartened. "I suggest that Colonel O'Neill instead be partnered with Major Kawalsky to infiltrate Valhalla Sector."

She frowned at him, surprised. "You think he'd do it? They might toss him in a cell the second he walks in the door."

Teal'c nodded once. "I believe he would take that risk to free Daniel Jackson and Markus Alexander. Nor will he hesitate once within Valhalla Sector, but do all he can. I cannot guarantee the same for Major O'Neill."

"But Jack doesn't know the people or the layout," she protested and shook her head, in frustration. "I guess it doesn't matter. It's a gamble either way. Best choice might be for Kawalsky to go alone, if he's willing. But in any case, I was thinking that you two would stay nearby ready to help them and bring them home."

Lee appeared stunned. "You would let me go with Murray? Really, Erin?"

She heaved an aggravated sigh. "Well, Lee, who the hell else is there? At least I know you're not the mole."

His shoulders slumped and he muttered sourly, "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

She slammed her hands down on the table. "Damn it! Considering I found out you were a spy only three days ago and Markus told me to keep you in the cell until he came back, it is a vote of confidence, Lee. So I'd be a little grateful, if I were you."

Teal'c intervened before anxiety and tiredness caused an argument among allies. "I would be honored to undertake this mission, Erin Gant."

She took a deep breath, calming herself once again. "Thank you."

"Me, too," Lee added. "I promise I'll do whatever you want to get Markus out of there, Erin. And I am thankful you're letting me help. You won't be sorry."

She gave him a friendlier look, peace now restored between the two. "I hope not. Anyway, you're both going with me to meet Jack, Sam, and Jeremiah." She rose from her chair. "I'm going to release our new friends, and pray they really are friends."

"There is something else," Teal'c pointed out. She stopped and looked at him curiously. He explained, "If Major O'Neill chooses to help us and is left free within this facility, he will be at risk from the spy."

Lee smiled a little. "Well, it'll give him an incentive to help catch the mole first, won't it?"

"You mean play bait?" Erin asked, sounding both horrified and doubtful.

"Precisely," Teal'c agreed. "It would draw the silent attacker out. Major O'Neill may be able to identify him among the population."

"I don't like it," Erin added.

"Major O'Neill is a soldier," Lee responded. "He can take care of himself."

"Will he?" Erin sighed. "Will he use force against someone who's only following orders? What if it's someone he knows?"

"He knows that hesitation may mean his own life," Teal'c reminded her. "If he chooses to remain, he will accept the risk."

"All right," she rubbed her cheeks and smoothed back her hair from her face. "I guess all we can do is ask."

On the way down the corridor toward the elevators, Lee changed the subject. "We need to keep the spy from contacting Valhalla."

"Markus shut down the whole system, except for the comm room. All calls out need council approval, and the comm room is staffed with at least two people all the time."

He nodded. "Good. I'd put guards on the room too. He's going to need to call for instructions with all this going on. Maybe frustration will make him careless."

"God, we can hope," she said with a heartfelt groan, slouching against the inside wall of the elevator and letting Lee push the button for the proper floor. "I'd really like this to be done with. I'm so sick of looking at everyone, wondering if they're the one."

Teal'c followed the two young adults into the elevator, and though he shared her hope, his primary wish at this point was that O'Neill and Kawalsky not prove him wrong about their loyalties.

\---+---

Kawalsky sat on his bunk and watched O'Neill pace back and forth.

"Why is it they asked you to look at the tape and not me?" O'Neill complained again.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders, but he wondered how they had guessed. Charlie hated Waverly, even more than Jack hated Simmons. Waverly was the reason Valhalla Sector had slid into the abyss, and he was the one who encouraged Simmons' predations, all to keep himself in power. Charlie had known for a long time that he wanted to leave, but he hadn't known where else he could go. He had never even considered Thunder Mountain.

The door opened and Murray walked in, followed closely by Erin and Lee.

Erin strode forward, and faced them with her arms crossed. "Here's the deal: you both go free right now. If you want, you can leave. We can't spare transportation, but I'll give you food, and you can walk wherever you want to go."

O'Neill looked at her suspiciously. "You're going to let us go, just like that?"

She smiled tiredly. "Yeah, just like that." She dug a key out of her pocket and opened the cell door. "A wise person reminded me you're not likely to want to help us while you're sitting in jail, so I'm setting you free. But if you want to help us, we could use it."

Kawalsky was first through the door. He didn't miss how both Murray and Lee took a step closer to Erin to flank her protectively. But Kawalsky found it endearing, rather than offensive. "What sort of help?"

She turned to him. "I know Murray told you what's happened. We need your help to get Markus -- "

"And Daniel Jackson," Murray interrupted.

"Get Markus, Daniel and all the other prisoners out of Valhalla's hands," Erin continued without missing a beat.

"Right. You expect us to walk in and open the cell doors?" O'Neill asked sarcastically.

"I'm sure it won't be that simple," Erin answered with strained patience. "But if you or Major Kawalsky are willing to go back, that would be a step. Our main problem right now is information. We don't know where the prisoners will end up. We're assuming Valhalla Sector, but hell, for all we know, there could be a special prison set up in Kentucky or something."

Kawalsky shook his head. "The important prisoners, like Markus I'm guessing, will go to Valhalla Sector. Simmons is gonna want to question him in person. The rest of them -- if you're talking dozens, would have to go someplace else. The hole in the ground doesn't have the capacity."

"But we can't go back," O'Neill said. "They think we're the ones who gave up Chen to you folks."

Chen folded his arms. "It's not true."

"Well, of course it's not!" O'Neill rolled his eyes. "But they don't know that. I still have no clue how they even got that idea, but they did, and that makes any sort of going back just insane."

Erin exchanged a glance with Murray, who nodded. She explained, "They think that because of our mole problem." She paused and Charlie thought she was done, though it didn't quite make sense to him. Why would the mole claim that O'Neill -- and himself by association -- had betrayed Chen?

But then she finished, answering that question but raising a whole bunch of others, "We have another O'Neill that the mole knows about."

"Huh?" O'Neill stared at her. "What the hell are you talking about?" His gaze went from her to Murray, putting together all that stuff about 'how an O'Neill thinks'. "You have another O'Neill?"

"It's a long story," Chen said impatiently. "And it's not important right now. Just know that Thunder Mountain has another O'Neill who looks enough like you to be confusing. The point is that you have an opening for mistaken identity. Kawalsky, you especially, since your presence here is a secret. Simmons probably doesn't know you're here. You can go back and play it any way you want."

Erin added, "Look, I know it's risky. We don't know exactly how much their spy here has told them. But we need someone on the inside, and you're our best shot. We need someone who will be willing to take the risk to free Markus." She glanced at Murray and took a deep breath, as if she knew he wouldn't like what she had to say.

"I want everyone out, of course. Some of them are my friends, and I don't want them kept prisoner. But if I have to make a choice, Markus has to come first. Not just because he's our leader and we need him. But because, being practical, we need to get him out before he tells them anything." She rubbed her arms as if she felt cold but turned earnest blue eyes on Kawalsky. "I don't think he will -- I think he'll die first. But if he does, it's a bigger disaster than the attack on St. Louis. He knows this place inside and out, he knows all the people we contacted for the meeting, he knows other important secrets… If they find out any of it, they can use it to crush our hopes of the future for a long time, maybe forever."

Kawalsky nodded slowly. She was right. That sort of information in Waverly's hands would doom their attempt to build a new nation, because Waverly would root out and destroy any resistance. Nor did he or Simmons have any incentive to hold back in torturing Markus for information, unlike with Devon for fear he might die and take the Big Death with him. It was unlikely that Markus could hold out against them for long.

Thinking back to the young man with the intense eyes he'd met so briefly and seeing the loyalty of his friends and followers, Kawalsky knew it was time to step up and do what was right. "All right. I'll do it. I'll go back."

O'Neill whirled to look at him and stab him with an incredulous glare. "Are you nuts? They _**shot at us**_ remember?"

Kawalsky gave a half-smile to his friend. "Jack, aren't you the one who's always saying we have to find something better than doing Waverly's dirty work?"

"Well, yeah," O'Neill admitted, "but I didn't mean _**suicide**_! You've seen what they do to people like us that they catch." He shuddered elaborately. "No, thanks. I pass."

"There is another option," Murray offered.

Both Kawalsky and O'Neill turned to him in sudden interest. Murray continued, "The other O'Neill will be willing to enter Valhalla Sector, I believe. With Major Kawalsky, if he wishes," he added with a bow of his head toward Kawalsky, who suddenly felt that going would be the honorable thing to do. Honor wasn't something he'd thought about, in a very long time.

O'Neill said, frowning, "Your imposter-guy takes my place and then what? I get kicked out on my ass?"

"No," Murray said, unflappable by O'Neill's hostility, which Kawalsky knew was just a cover for fear of being abandoned. Murray seemed to know it as well. "You might stay here if you agree to assist us with a different task. There is still the matter of the spy within this base."

O'Neill's attention was caught by that. "What do you want me to do?"

Erin explained, "You can walk around like the other Jack. Hopefully, you'll be able to recognize the mole if you see him face-to-face and help us catch him. He's already killed one person -- we have to catch him before he kills anyone else, or sabotages the systems in some way to let Valhalla Sector walk in here." Erin looked at him, then Kawalsky, with beseeching eyes, although her following words belied her softness. "If you don't think you can do it, let us know now. I can't take the chance you're gonna make things worse."

O'Neill hesitated and glanced at Kawalsky. "Charlie, you promise to tell me about this clone of mine?"

"I will." Kawalsky nodded. "But can I trust this _other_ Jack to watch my back?"

Murray gave a semblance of a smile. "Just as if he were your O'Neill."

Kawalsky had to admit he was curious. Where did they find another man like Jack O'Neill? Before the Big Death, there had been another John O'Neill, but these people said their Jack looked like his Jack. In any case, he was going to meet the guy -- he'd be able to give him pointers, since personality-wise, there was only one Jack O'Neill.

"Okay, you've got your spycatcher," O'Neill announced, glancing at Kawalsky. "Are you really gonna go back in that viper pit?"

"Hey, you know me," Kawalsky tried to give a casual shrug. "If a New Yorker can't talk himself out of trouble, who can?" Growing more serious, he gave O'Neill a look. "You won't be out of danger yourself, you know. Watch your back."

"You too," Jack responded, looking worried.

Charlie knew Jack hated the fact that they were splitting up. In truth he didn't like it either. But it was necessary.

"So, when do we leave?" Charlie asked.

The big black man looked at Erin questioningly.

She shrugged. "We have a little time. We meet the others tomorrow morning. First thing, we'll get you two settled, catch a little sleep, and head out early."

Kawalsky thought it through. "We'd better keep me a secret. Fewer eyes that see me the better."

"No problem," Lee declared. "You can stay in O'Neill's room before we go."

"While there, may I suggest that Major O'Neill remove his BDU's with ID and change into something else?" Murray looked at them seriously.

Jack demanded, "You're kidding, right? First my name, now my clothes?"

"And your tags. Erin Gant will provide you with adequate apparel in return," Murray answered.

Kawalsky knew as well as Jack did, even though Jack was whining about it, that the other Jack needed Jack's clothes in order to carry off any sort of deception. If he had the wrong patches on his BDU's or was missing his dogtags, someone at Valhalla Sector would notice and report it to Waverly. That would be a death sentence for the other Jack and probably Kawalsky, too.

"Adequate apparel? Can't you speak in plain English?" Jack complained.

An eyebrow raised. "I believe I am. Do you find me difficult to understand?"

Jack looked over at Charlie and they rolled their eyes. "Never mind," Jack finally responded as Murray seemed to be waiting for an answer.

Lee'd had enough of the talk. He started for the door. "Come on -- I think we've all spent enough time in this place. We've got things to get ready."

They made an odd procession: Jack and Charlie in the middle, following Erin and Lee, with Murray bringing up the rear. Whether by accident or design, they saw no one as they went through the corridors and finally stopped at a room. Erin opened the door. "This is where the other Jack stayed. It would look funny if we assigned you someplace different."

Charlie and Jack walked in. It was a small room, with two metal-frame beds, bureau, closet, and a small table. "Don't tell me this is your VIP suite?" Jack asked with raised eyebrows.

Erin gave a small smile. "Out here in the real world, Jack, we're all created equal. That means everyone has space according to their needs. Families have the suites."

Jack gave her a skeptical look. "So Markus doesn't get a big room?"

Erin and Lee exchanged a glance that seemed amused at the question. "Markus has his own," Erin said, "that's his perk. But it's smaller than this one. He spends most of his time in his office or roaming around, anyway." She bit her lip and her eyes shone for a moment before she looked away, as it occurred to her that he wasn't around and was probably on his way to Valhalla Sector at that very moment.

She cleared her throat and added, "We'll leave you here to get changed. I'll send someone in ten minutes to pick up what you're wearing, Jack. There should be something to wear in the closet. After that, get some sleep in whatever's left of tonight." She started toward the door and turned back. "I want to thank you both for volunteering to help us. It's a dangerous thing you're doing, and don't believe that we don't appreciate it, because we do. Very much."

She left, Murray on her heels after a formal nod. Lee lingered behind a moment. He looked at both of them, but especially Jack. "These are good people," he said after a moment's heavy silence. "This is a good place. They want to trust you -- even I want to trust you. But make no mistake, if you play them false, you'll deal with me. Understood?"

Kawalsky just nodded. He'd expected Chen to issue some sort of threat.

Jack couldn't help a quick taunt back. "Hey, we're not the ones who lied to these good people about our loyalties, Chen. So take a look in the mirror before you start throwing stones."

Lee stiffened. "I don't have to justify my actions to you."

"No, but you did to Markus," Jack retorted, "and he wasn't impressed, was he, since you were still in a cell when we got here."

"Jack," Charlie intervened before Lee could get more offended. "Enough. We're all tired. I'm going to be bouncing around in a chopper all day, and all this yakking isn't getting me any sleep. Good night, Lee. See you in the morning."

"Major Kawalsky," Lee gave him a nod and left, pointedly without any acknowledgment of O'Neill at all.

After the door closed behind him, Charlie shook his head ruefully.

"What?" Jack asked defensively. "He was threatening us."

"He's protective of this place, that's all." Charlie wandered to the closet and the small bureau, rooting among the clothes to find a T-shirt with the worn logo of a long-dead rock band and pajama bottoms that looked like they might fit him.

"Come on," he threw another shirt and running shorts at O'Neill. "Get changed before they strip 'em off your skinny ass."

O'Neill caught the clothes, but his attention was obviously elsewhere. "I've been thinking. What if, somehow, Charlie's alive after all? Maybe he's the O'Neill they're talking about."

Kawalsky felt a pang for his namesake, the little boy who hadn't lived to see five. He cleared his throat. "Jack, buddy, Sara said --"

"I know what she said! But what if she was wrong?" Jack persisted, stripping off his BDUs like he couldn't stand them anymore. "Samuels' kid is still alive. Why not Charlie, too?"

Kawalsky didn't know what to say. The little he had gleaned about the "other O'Neill" suggested someone closer in age to Jack, since there would be little hope of passing a teenager off as someone more than twice that. But he hardly wanted to tell Jack that.

Luckily he didn't have to, since there was a knock on the door. Jack called who was there, and the answer in a girlish voice drifted through the door. "I'm here for your clothes."

"Hang on a second," Jack called back and quickly changed, remembering only after Kawalsky gestured, to take off the chain with his dogtags and put it on the pile too. He then motioned Kawalsky out of sight and opened the door.

The girl said, "Erin said I should take your dirty ones?"

"Sure, sweetie," Jack said, his voice softening. "Sorry, they're a bit stinky."

"That's okay." She took his dirty pile and closed the door behind her.

"Shouldn't she be in bed?" Jack wondered aloud.

But Kawalsky barely heard. He had picked up a flat card from the wall shelf behind the door and now he couldn't look away. "Holy shit. Jack, it's _**you**_."

It was a military ID in the name of Colonel Jonathan O'Neill, USAF.

The picture was of Jack. The haircut a little shorter than the way he usually wore it, but it was him. Shock almost made him drop it.

Jack took it away from him. "Where the hell did this come from, Charlie?" Jack's voice was soft, amazed right out of his usual attitude. "I'm not a colonel. Waverly would have to be in the ground before I'd get a promotion. Who the hell is this guy?"

Kawalsky was just as puzzled. It didn't make any sense. "Maybe it's all fake," he offered. "Some sort of con."

"No, Charlie, I don't think so. Not by these kids anyway. I don't know… this is like we're in the Twilight Zone or something." He gave Charlie a sharp look. "You watch yourself with that other O'Neill. Don't trust him."

"I won't." Kawalsky let out a yawn. "C'mon, let's get some shut-eye. We'll figure it out tomorrow. Maybe there's a some simple explanation we're not seeing."

Charlie lay back and pulled the blanket up, letting Jack turn off the light and head for the other cot. He knew Jack would remain awake for awhile, trying to sort out what was going on, but Charlie deliberately put it out of his mind in favor of getting some sleep.

\---+---

Down the corridor, away from Jack's door, Erin glanced up at Murray's imperturbable face and wondered when she had got so comfortable with him.

"It is time to rest, Erin Gant," he suggested, breaking into her thoughts.

She glanced at the clock and couldn't help a yawn. "Not yet. I've got to -- "

Gently, but firmly, he laid a large hand on her shoulder. "You must allow others to share the burden. You are in command now, and your people require you to be wise."

"Wise?" she repeated, and her voice caught when she tried to laugh. "I don't think I can be wise."

He smiled a little, his dark eyes kind. "Then perhaps rested will be sufficient. Come, I will assist you to finish what tasks remain, and escort you to your bed, to ensure that you find it."

And he did. After she'd seen to O'Neill's clothes and got ready for bed, he followed her into her room and turned down her bed. "I will remain, to be sure your sleep remains undisturbed." He then lit a candle in the corner of her room and settled himself down before it.

"You should sleep, too," she suggested, only half-heartedly, as she pulled the covers up. She thought she _**ought**_ to be offended by his taking charge of her, but instead, she felt safe. She didn't really want him to leave.

He didn't. "Another time. Now I will guard your sleep."

She didn't expect to sleep. But his presence was warm and comforting, and she found herself drifting off. Her last thought was of Markus, and the fervent prayer that he would come home soon.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sunday, March 21**

The helicopter ride east was very dark and cold. The only light came from the instrument panels in the front, and the occasional moonbeam slipping in through the open door.

The soldiers seemed to be on a combat high, joking roughly about how quickly and easily the meeting had fallen to them, and how they were going to spend the bonuses that Waverly was going to give them, for capturing the rebel leader. It turned out the operation had been called Snakehead, presumably because it had been intended to capture Markus, and Valhalla Sector had no strategy more original than 'cutting off the head of the snake'. But considering what Daniel knew lurked in Kansas, he thought it rather ironic.

Daniel glanced occasionally at Markus beside him, during all the sneering comments about his leadership ability and how easily he'd been taken. He kept his eyes closed and pretended to be asleep.

On one of their refueling stops, the soldiers allowed Markus and Daniel to stretch and relieve themselves under heavy guard, but never offered food or water. On the way back to the helicopter, they taunted Markus and pushed him around, using his manacles to catch him when he nearly fell. The pull in his shoulders must have hurt, but other than clenching his jaw, he didn't react. Daniel bit his lip, knowing that the bullying would get worse if he tried to tell them to stop. But eventually the soldiers tired of the game and they were soon in the air again.

Daniel leaned into Markus and asked quietly, "You okay?"

He opened his eyes and glanced at Daniel. "Erin's going to be so mad at me," he answered with a little smile.

"You, shut up," one of the soldiers ordered roughly, and his heavy boot struck Markus on the leg.

Markus pulled up his knees and closed his eyes.

Daniel could feel every mile beneath him, as they flew farther and father away from his friends and safety and the way home. It was not an unfamiliar feeling, unfortunately.

But despite that, he wasn't afraid. Jack, Teal'c, and Sam were free, and he was confident that they would do everything possible to get him out. It might take an uncomfortably long while, though. He sighed, wondering why the universe had decided to make him its whipping boy.

Yet glancing at Markus, Daniel knew he couldn't really complain this time. Nobody knew who he was, and he wasn't going to get any special attention for being a member of the notorious SG-1 in this reality. But Markus was the enemy of Valhalla Sector, the leader of the 'rebellion'. He undoubtedly faced interrogation and probably public execution, if the Valhalla Sector leaders were as Goa'uld-like as they seemed.

He knew it, too. Daniel had seen it in his face as he'd walked down the tunnel to give his speech -- a touch of resignation in his strong sense of purpose. He'd known what might be coming.

Hopefully, though, Jack would organize a rescue before anything permanent happened.

There was a burst of sound from the front as the pilots communicated with someone on the radio. All the soldiers stirred, getting ready, and Daniel knew they were almost there. He sat straighter also, stretching his back and legs as much as possible. His shoulders and arms were cramped, and there wasn't much he could do about it, but at least he didn't want to fall on his face.

He glanced again at Markus, whose eyes were open and caught his with a dark, unfathomable gaze in the dimness. Then he turned, looking toward the front, as the helicopter began to land.

Even before they'd quite gotten down, some of the soldiers jumped out. The lieutenant shouted over the sound of the rotors, with a gesture, "Get them up!"

The two nearest Markus and Daniel motioned with their guns for the two to get up. It wasn't exactly the easiest thing, Daniel found, trying to stand up with one's arms behind the back after unknown hours of sitting in the cold. Finally, one of the soldiers had to grab him by the shoulders and haul him upright. He shoved Daniel toward the door, and Daniel managed a controlled jump over the lip and down to the ground.

He looked around when he'd caught his balance. The bare dirt landing field was blindingly lit by high, harshly bright lights like a football field at night. He couldn't see anything, except for the gaping black maw of the entrance about fifty yards away.

Prodded in the back with a gun, Daniel had to walk toward the entrance. He twisted around to make sure that Markus was following, and swallowed back an exclamation when the lieutenant pushed Markus out the door.

Markus fell and stumbled forward to his knees, nearly toppling onto his face. He winced at the impact, but had no chance to recover, as the soldiers yanked him back to his feet.

They passed through one thick bunker door set into at least six feet of concrete, a large mostly empty staging area, and then through another open bunker door into a large room. The walls were lined with various electronics, including monitors and banks of rather primitive-looking computers. But Daniel didn't really look at them after he noticed the two men in formal uniforms waiting for them.

One, with three stars on his shoulders, had a full head of iron-gray hair and a permanent-looking grimace that narrowed his dark eyes in disapproval at everything and everyone. General Waverly was not a happy man.

But it was the other man who attracted his attention. He knew this man far better than he liked. Colonel Frank Simmons, late of NID, stood behind the general. Daniel had never seen him in uniform, so it was a shock to see him in Army green, with a colonel's eagles on his shoulders. But the receding graying hair was the same, the rather sneering mouth was the same, and the cold gaze was exactly the same.

That gaze fell on Daniel for a fraction of a second until Daniel was utterly dismissed as unimportant, and Simmons fixed his attention on Markus.

The squad came to attention and saluted.

Waverly acknowledged the salutes with a sharp one of his own. "Well done, Lieutenant Reed. This **is** the infamous Markus Alexander." He examined Markus closely, with a scornful twist of his lips as if to suggest that he wasn't impressed.

Markus stood straight, despite the hours of having his hands behind his back and the cold ride in the helicopter. "That's right, I'm Markus Alexander," he confirmed in a confident, unruffled voice. "And you must be General Waverly."

Waverly nodded once, then seemed to consider this politeness to be some sort of sign of weakness, because he turned to Daniel and demanded, "And you are?"

Daniel knew he'd been around Jack too much when he was tempted to answer, 'Glinda the Good Witch.' But he restrained himself and said simply, "My name's Daniel Jackson."

"And your relationship with Alexander?"

Daniel opened his mouth, but Markus cut in, "None. We just met."

At first Daniel was taken back, but he understood what Markus was trying to do. He confirmed with a nod when Waverly raised his brows. "A few days ago."

Waverly grunted and brusquely ordered another soldier standing nearby, "Escort the prisoners to the President. He wanted to see them when they arrived."

The captain and his four men surrounded Markus and Daniel, with Waverly and Simmons tagging along behind. They went through a hall that seemed familiar to Daniel, with its concrete walls and low ceiling with exposed pipes and ducts. Apparently government Cold War bunkers were all built the same.

"This is the Mount Pegasus facility," Markus said, in a surprised tone as though realizing something for the first time as they passed an old warning placard on the wall. He chuckled once, ruefully, but didn't explain what he thought was funny.

They were led into a small room, with the presidential seal emblazoned on the carpet in a mock-up of the Oval Office. Daniel was not impressed, though he was sure he was meant to be.

An older man, perhaps in his mid-sixties, with a gray-white beard, and stocky build in his navy suit was waiting for them. There were more guards in the room also, which Daniel thought was overkill, considering he and Markus were both still hand-cuffed.

Waverly entered and announced, "The President of the United States, William Emerson." Then he added with careful politeness, "Mr. President, this is Markus Alexander, the leader of the rebellion."

"So, you're the one who's been causing so much trouble," President Emerson said, with his bright blue eyes peering at Markus.

Markus smiled slightly and ignored the comment. "So, the President of the United States, hm? That's a rather grandiose title, isn't it?"

Emerson straightened, looking offended. "I was elected by the two thousand, six hundred forty-three voters of Valhalla Sector."

"Oh really?" Markus returned politely, in a tone that Daniel had come to recognize as Markus' most dangerous. "That's very interesting."

Waverly tried to intervene, but Emerson waved him off, looking at Markus. "Why's that, son?"

Markus answered coolly, "At the last election in Thunder Mountain I had twenty-two more than that. I guess that makes _**me**_ the president."

Emerson's eyes widened in panic, and he stared at Markus. Even Daniel almost believed him, except he remembered Markus' face while talking about 'Chocolate Day' and the deadpan expression was the same.

Daniel couldn't help a smile as Emerson then looked to Waverly and Simmons, like a small child desperate to confirm that, yes, Santa was real. "That's not true, is it? I'm still the president."

"Of course you are, Mr. President," Simmons assured him, in that familiar, snake-oil salesman voice. "We know that Markus Alexander holds his position through dictatorship, not election."

"I prefer to think of it as enlightened benevolent despotism myself," Markus offered, now openly smiling at the reaction that his joke had gotten. Then his amusement fell away and he pinned Emerson with a dark glare. "I do not recognize the legitimacy of your election or your title. But I do hold you personally responsible for any harm done to my people. Including the murder of a sixteen-year-old girl yesterday."

Emerson stepped back and his hands came up to fiddle with his jacket. "Now, son, there's no need to get hostile. If you and your folks had just stayed quiet -- "

"And let Valhalla Sector continue to massacre entire towns of men, women, and children?" Markus demanded coldly.

"That's not true!" Emerson protested. "Someone told you lies, young man. There've been casualties, of course, and nobody's more sorry about that than I, but they're necessary for progress. If we're ever going to get this country back on its feet, everyone's going to have to do their part."

Daniel heard the tone of someone who had so thoroughly convinced himself of the truth, that there was nothing Markus or anyone could say that would convince him otherwise. Nonetheless, Markus opened his mouth to speak.

Waverly interjected, "Mr. President, you're never going to convince him. He doesn't _**want**_ the United States back on its feet. He wants a new country with himself in charge. He's a rebel and a traitor, and now that you've seen him, I think you know that too."

"Yes, yes, I do," Emerson said, though Daniel wasn't sure that he really did. But he went along with Waverly anyway. "Take him and his friend away, Thomas."

"Yes, sir," Waverly agreed. "Captain, take them both to the brig."

The captain saluted and he and his men escorted Daniel and Markus out of the mock Oval Office. They entered an elevator and went down to level four. After the doors opened, Daniel was lost almost immediately in all the corridors. There didn't seem to be as many levels as Cheyenne -- the elevator had buttons for only five levels, but it was much bigger on each level, going by the length of the main corridors.

"Very funny," Daniel said to Markus in a low voice as they walked.

Markus smiled briefly. "It was, wasn't it? Did you see the look on his face?"

"No talking," the Valhalla captain ordered and one of his men poked Daniel in the side with the barrel of his gun. Daniel gave a little skip to avoid the prodding and continued ahead.

They turned into a guard room with a heavy metal door on the opposite side. The captain of the squadron spoke to the guards, who unlocked the door and ushered Daniel and Markus inside.

Within was another short hallway. On the left was just a blank wall and the right was a series of cells, their front walls made up of iron bars and open matching doors. Daniel's cuffs were opened, and he gasped at the sudden flare of pain in his cramped shoulders as his hands swung freely.

But the guards gave him no chance to do anything. "You, in there," the captain ordered, pointing to the first cell.

"Me?" Daniel asked, though it was pretty clear who the captain meant. The nearest sergeant raised his gun and Daniel raised his hands. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

As the heavy door clanged shut and was locked, Daniel glanced at Markus, who wouldn't meet his eyes. Instead, he looked blankly at the end of the hall even while he was led to the adjoining cell and out of Daniel's sight.

That cell door also was shut and locked, and the soldiers all left, locking the main door behind them.

"Markus?" he called. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," the answer came back.

Daniel could already see that having the wall between them was going to really annoy him. He depended a lot on seeing people's expressions to judge the truth of their words and their meaning, and he couldn't do that with a foot of concrete in between.

He grimly regarded the narrow cot and the metal basin with the single water spigot sticking up from the floor which was apparently meant to be both sink and toilet. Other than that, the three walls and the floor were bare gray concrete, and the ceiling had metal fencing between the cell and the light fixtures. As Jack would say, he really needed to get a new travel agent.

"What's so funny about Mount Pegasus?" he asked just to break the silence that had fallen.

There was a rueful sigh from the other cell. "I hacked this mainframe when I was fourteen, Daniel. If I had known Valhalla Sector was here, I could've gotten in again. But I didn't bother because it was dark on the board. Clearly they cut the NORAD monitoring line after the Big Death to make it look empty. But if I'd known … " he paused and added more quietly, "well, things would've been a lot different."

"So you're kicking yourself for not being omniscient?" Daniel asked.

There was a pause, which suggested that Daniel was right, then Markus answered. "No. I just wish… There are so many things I did wrong. I'd like to go back and do them again, that's all."

Daniel sat himself on the floor next to the front bars nearest Markus' cell and said, "So do we all, Markus. But we probably shouldn't, even if we could."

Markus snorted softly. He sounded like he was on the other side of the wall from Daniel. "Wouldn't do any good anyway. Not to us. It would only create an alternate universe, and change nothing in our own timeline."

"Yeah, I know. Time travel sucks." As awful as being an orphan had been and as much as he missed his parents, he also knew they would never choose to live, if it meant being responsible for a Goa'uld invasion of the Earth or something worse.

Or its devastation by a virus, like this planet had experienced. He could imagine all too well what had happened fifteen years ago. Even in a more protected place like Cheyenne Mountain, there must have been hundreds of deaths of the adults, leaving two hundred children alone in a vast underground bunker with little understanding of how the equipment worked or where to get food or … anything. Yet they had survived, due in no small part to the person in the cell next door, who was beating himself up over things he couldn't do anything about.

Daniel cleared his throat and said, "I was a kid when my parents died, so I know what that's like." He still remembered the horrible quiet that had seemed to last an eternity after he had realized that his parents were dead. "I remember feeling very alone. But now I realize, I wasn't. I had foster parents; I had teachers, and even the parents of friends who were there for me. You didn't have that help, just muddled through on your own. Maybe you made mistakes, I don't know enough to judge, but there's still a thriving community under the mountain, so they couldn't have been that bad. You've achieved something amazing. And trust me, I've seen some pretty amazing things."

"I'm sure you have," Markus said, giving no indication whether he'd even heard the rest of what Daniel had said. Then Daniel heard a distinct yawn and the sound of Markus getting to his feet. "I'm going to try to sleep. I don't know when they'll be coming."

Daniel felt a chill creep through him at the thought. Strange, he had actually forgotten that he was in prison for a few minutes.

He was getting too used to this.

\---+---

Markus started awake when the cell block door opened. Despite the thin mattress, short length of the cot, the overhead lights which never varied in intensity, and awareness that he was in his enemy's base, he still had slept better than in the car the night before. But now a bolt of fear struck from nowhere, with the realization that it was starting. He sat up, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart.

He heard a cheerful, feminine voice say, "I've got it, thanks, Sergeant. Good morning."

The last must have been to Daniel, who replied, politely with a trace of puzzlement, "Good morning."

She said, "Are you Markus?"

"Um, no," Daniel answered after a slight hesitation. "Daniel."

"Oh. Well, here. You can have this one." There was the sound of footsteps. Markus waited, a little curious to see his visitor.

A young woman came into view, and she certainly wasn't military going by her colorful layers of clothing. She had long curly dark hair framing a pale face and large dark eyes, a bit of a snub nose and smiling lips. She was carrying an apple. After looking at him for a long time, she spoke. "So then you must be Markus."

He nodded once, not sure if he should relax or not. "And you are?"

"Liberty Kaufman," she answered in a breathless voice. "Most everybody calls me Libby. I brought this for you. Breakfast. Since I don't know if they're going to bring any or not. They're not always good about that sort of thing." She held the apple through the bars with a grin, and when he made no move to come get it, she bit her lip and set it carefully on one of the cross-bars of the cell door. "Well, anyway, I came to see you."

He folded his arms. "Here I am. And it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere any time soon. What do you want?" He hid his amusement at how flustered she looked. This was not, apparently, how she had envisioned the meeting. He guessed he was supposed to throw himself at her and beg to be rescued or some such thing.

She laughed once nervously and glanced toward the main door before looking at him again. "Actually I wanted to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." She leaned forward and hissed loudly, "From Devon."

That was enough to get him to stand up and approach her. "Oh?"

She looked relieved and smiled hesitantly. "I help him out in the lab and things."

"Do you think he could come visit?" Markus asked, more to see what she would say than in any genuine hope that Devon would stop by.

Her expression fell and she shook her head sadly. "No, they questioned him two days ago. He's not leaving his bed anytime soon. And even if he was, I don't think they'd let him in."

He hated that his first thought was wondering whether this was some clever way to get him to dread the coming interrogation, by letting this girl so casually tell him that Devon couldn't even get out of bed two days later. She had an appealing innocent air about her, helped by those doe eyes, but Lee hadn't mentioned her, which made him wonder if she was telling the truth. He _**hated**_ that he had to stand on the wrong side of steel bars and distrust the only person in this place who might be able to help him. But he had to be suspicious. He no longer had the luxury of believing that people were what they seemed to be.

"They let you in," he said. In fact, she'd seemed quite friendly with the sergeant at the door.

She shrugged. "The guards know me. I'm nobody important."

"Oh, I doubt that," he murmured. She looked down, but not quite quickly enough to hide a smile.

"I'll do what I can to help," she said softly, raising her face to his. "But it's not much. It would help if I knew there was going to be a distraction or something. Are your people going to come for you?"

"I don't know," he answered, and it happened to be the truth. He suspected Erin might _**want**_ to launch some sort of attack, but hopefully cooler heads would prevail. But even if he knew the answer, he wouldn't tell Libby. "I imagine it would be pretty futile, so I hope not. Do you know what happened to the rest of the people from the meeting?"

"I heard one of the soldiers say the prisoners were being transported somewhere," she offered. "Not here, I don't think, since we don't have the space for keeping lots of people in cells. And I guess there are lots?"

He ignored the tentative question. Taking the apple, he went back to the cot to sit, rolling it in his hands absently. He was going to be the star attraction here, with nobody but Daniel to help take the heat off. Great. It was no more than he expected, but depressing anyway.

After watching him for a bit, she pointed out with an earnest smile, "You can eat it. I got it from the basket in the commissary. It's not poisoned or anything, I promise."

"Well, that's a relief," he retorted dryly. "I feel so much better."

"Markus," Daniel chided from next door. "Be nice."

By way of apology, he took a bite of the apple. For being last year's it hadn't gone totally mushy, so it was with a genuine smile that he thanked her.

She glanced back down toward the door. "I've got to go, or they'll wonder why I'm taking so long. I'll do what I can."

With that final promise, she was gone, leaving Markus to wonder why she'd come.

After the door closed behind her, Daniel said, "You were kind of hard on her, weren't you? When she could help us?"

Markus sighed, "We have only her word that she's friendly. And that, frankly, isn't enough for me."

"Because of Lee?" Daniel asked, sympathetically.

Markus felt a twinge of the cutting sense of betrayal, but ignored it. "No. Because I've been told that Colonel Simmons is amoral and clever, and probably good at head-games."

There was a pause from Daniel, who then said, "The Simmons I know was, that's for sure. So it's probably a good idea to be cautious."

Markus gave a small sigh. "As cautious as I can be, Daniel. Under the circumstances."

He finished off his apple then lay back down on the cot, hands under his head to watch the flickering fluorescent lights. There was nothing else to do until they came for him.

\---+---

Major Jack O'Neill, formerly of Valhalla sector and currently of nowhere in particular, woke up at the sounds of footsteps passing by outside the door. At first he had no idea where he was, and then it all came rushing back.

He was in Thunder Mountain. Yesterday he'd agreed to help them catch a spy from Valhalla Sector. And yesterday, Charlie had agreed -- all on his own, without consultation -- to go back into Valhalla in a surely suicidal attempt to free the rebels.

_One man's rebel is another man's freedom fighter_, he reminded himself and tried to shake his head into a new configuration. These people in Cheyenne definitely believed they were freedom fighters, and given what Jack knew about Valhalla Sector's many evils, he wasn't going to argue who was on the side of the angels.

A knock on the door broke into his musings. "Good morning, Jack," Erin called through the door. "I've brought breakfast."

He opened the door, turning on the light, to see Erin carrying a tray. He relieved her of it, and put it on the table. Scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, an apple, and coffee. "You have coffee," he realized, seizing one of the two mugs, and savoring the smell blissfully.

She smiled. "Valhalla ran out?" she asked, closing the door behind her and greeted the rising Kawalsky.

O'Neill shook his head. "No, only the brass get coffee regularly. Occasionally we'll get instant in our ration packs on a mission."

"Go ahead and eat," she urged them, leaning against the closet door. "That breakfast is supposedly mine, so I'm not going anywhere until you've both finished. I thought I'd lay out the plan."

O'Neill took one of the plates and balanced it across his knees on the cot. "Go ahead," he said, taking up a forkful of eggs.

"Charlie and I will leave in half an hour," she said. "I should be back this afternoon. In the meantime, Sarah will take you around."

He didn't mean to twitch, but he did, glancing sharply up at her. "Sarah?" he asked his mouth dry.

Frowning slightly, puzzled by his reaction, she explained, "Sarah's one of the original residents here. I've told her about you and what you'll be doing for us, so she knows the truth. She'll show you the place, and hopefully you'll run into the bastard that murdered Kristen."

"Oh," he relaxed with a little shake of his head. Of course it wasn't his Sara. But after last night, wondering if his son was still alive, for a moment he had the wild hope that maybe… He cut off that train of thought. "Okay. You say she knows the truth. I'm guessing you don't want anybody else to figure out that I'm not the O'Neill you had here before."

"Right. It's just too confusing," she admitted with a rueful shrug. "And I'd rather people stay focused on what's important."

"So who is this guy?" O'Neill asked. "I saw his I.D. He looks like me, but obviously he's not me, since I'm me." He waved a hand toward the wallet. "So what's his story?"

Erin chuckled and shook her head. "Jack, I'm not the person you should ask to explain it to you. I really don't understand it either. All I can tell you is that Jack, um, appeared pretty much out of thin air. And you can't ever get near him, or he dies. Markus could explain it to you. Or Sam, if she comes back. But me?" she shrugged again with a bit of a smile. "I just take what I've got and deal with it."

She gathered up their now-cleaned plates back onto the tray. "You can keep the coffee cups. Charlie, Murray will come get you when we're ready to go. In the meantime, let me show you where you can shower and stuff. Sorry, I forgot last night."

Going out, she looked both ways down the hall and then gestured them both out, indicating the facilities. Then with a glance up at O'Neill said, "I'll see you when I get back. Good luck."

They showered and dressed quickly, Kawalsky in his old BDU's and O'Neill in the new ones that fit far too well to be comfortable. Returning to their room, they found Kawalsky's pack had been returned to him, and used his kit to shave. O'Neill presumed his pack was going with Kawalsky for the other O'Neill to carry, which was okay since there was nothing really personal in it.

Murray came at the appointed time. "Major Kawalsky, are you prepared?"

Jack turned to Charlie, holding out his hand. "Good luck, and tell me all about it when you get back."

Charlie swallowed thickly. "Yes, sir," he replied, shaking his friend's hand then giving him a sloppy salute.

Jack returned the salute with a smile. The smile stayed on his face until Charlie and Murray were gone, and then he sat on the cot, suddenly feeling very alone.

\---+---

Lee flew the chopper with ease. Even though it had been several years since he'd been at the controls, it wasn't something one forgot. He loved the freedom of flying. Erin sat in the back with Kawalsky while Murray sat next to him. Lee had asked Murray if he knew how to fly and, with a straight face, the big guy told him that he could pilot many machines that flew in both atmosphere and space.

They passed the outskirts of Stoneridge and headed to the bowling alley on the south side, where they had planned to meet up with Jeremiah, Jack and Sam. He wasn't looking forward to meeting up with Jeremiah. From their first meeting, neither trusted the other, yet had been forced to work together. Now Kurdy was missing, presumably also at Valhalla Sector, since he was supposed to stick like glue to Markus. Lee knew that Jeremiah was going to be anxious to rescue his friend and Markus. Yet Lee could never allow Jeremiah to go to Valhalla, even if it meant forfeiting his home in Thunder Mountain.

Lee flew low, along the main road, until he saw the sign below. Luckily it was still standing, although at some point graffiti had painted over the letters. Lee set the chopper down in the middle of the parking lot, not far from a green jeep. Jeremiah and the others must have already arrived. He powered down the blades and then the motor.

"You ready, Kawalsky?" Lee asked, knowing the shock the other man was about to receive.

"He really looks like Jack?"

"He is Jack," Lee reiterated. "You have to believe it for this subterfuge to work."

"Come on," Erin urged, beckoning them out of the chopper. She was already standing next to Murray.

The four of them entered the ramshackled building. Paint was peeling off the outside and as they entered through the broken doors, the inside didn't look to be in better shape. There were no lights, but the few holes in the ceiling let in enough light to see by. The long bowling lanes were still present although someone had tried to rip up the wooden boards. Numerous plastic benches were also missing and some had been hacked to pieces when they had stubbornly refused to be removed.

Lee saw Jeremiah's head bobbing up and down as he rummaged around in the bar area. Searching for resources was second nature to anyone who'd been on the outside for any length of time. Sam was seated on the only chair left in the place, pulled up to a scoring table, scribbling on paper, and Jack O'Neill was sitting on the floor, his back propped against a wall. His eyes flew open as they entered.

"Greetings!" Murray's voice thundered in the large room.

Jeremiah peered over a counter at them. "'Bout time," he muttered.

"Hey, T, looking good." Jack sprung onto his feet, a gun hanging loose at his side. "Erin." He nodded to her as well.

Lee waited to be acknowledged, but O'Neill barely spared him a glance as his eyes became riveted upon the man stepping inside behind him.

The two military men stared at one another. Jack's face broke out in a grin as he grabbed Kawalsky's hand and shook it vigorously.

"Man, Charlie. It's great to see you again."

"Yeah. Nice to see you, too," Kawalsky said awkwardly.

"Come, let me introduce you to the others. Jeremiah is behind the counter looking for potato chips and beer. This is my second in command, Major Samantha Carter."

Sam held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Major."

Kawalsky shook her hand, seemed relieved to respond with general pleasantries, then turned back to Jack. "And you are, exactly?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill at your service." He pointed to the eagles on his shoulder. "That makes me your superior officer. Ain't life grand," he exclaimed.

Kawalsky ignored the words, still perplexed. "You really do look like Jack, but how can there be two? He doesn't have a twin, I know that."

"Carter can give you the details, but it comes down to alternate realities. There's a whole lot of me's running around in the infinite universes, and we managed to land in yours. For now, you're stuck with this me."

Erin stepped forward. "I hate to interrupt, but standing around isn't getting our plans made."

"Yeah. Right," Jack became all business. "Let's gather around Carter's table. I take it you have an idea?"

"Were you able to locate any naquadah?" Murray asked, interrupting Erin as he squatted on the floor next to Sam Carter.

"He had some but we didn't have time to get it out," Sam answered after sharing a strange look with Jeremiah that Lee couldn't decipher.

"I don't ever want to experience that shit again," Jeremiah muttered with a shake of his head.

Lee was dying to know what had happened. Jeremiah looked really spooked and Jeremiah did not spook easily.

"So, in addition to rescuing Daniel Jackson and Markus Alexander, we still need to locate a power source large enough to power the gate?" Murray asked.

"Got it in one, T."

"Why do you call him T, if his name is Murray?" Kawalsky asked, looking back and forth between the two men.

"It's a nick name," Jack answered. "T's a lot shorter. The plan, Carter?"

"Yes, sir. Erin and I have come up with the _**beginning**_ of a plan," she said, sharing a look with Erin. "Major Kawalsky, and the colonel -- pretending to be Major O'Neill -- will fly to Valhalla with Murray and Lee. While Murray and Lee stay with the chopper, the colonel and the major will go into Valhalla, contact Devon and try and smuggle Daniel and Markus out."

Jeremiah stiffened and interrupted sharply, "Hey! What about me?"

"Jeremiah can't go," Lee interjected.

Kawalsky turned to Jeremiah, staring at him. "Don't tell me you're that Jeremiah? Devon's kid?" He looked around as if willing people to deny it. Jack nodded. Charlie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There's been rumors that you're still alive, but I never took them seriously."

"Yeah, Devon's my dad. You two friends?"

Kawalsky shook his head no. "Not really. I know him, though. Chen's right. You can't put yourself in Waverly's hands. He's been looking for you for a long time."

"Then," Jeremiah said slowly, "that makes me valuable, doesn't it? Enough to make a trade? Me for Markus and Kurdy and Daniel?"

"No!" Lee stood up, eager to nip that bit of self-sacrificing idiocy in the bud. One martyr in Thunder Mountain was quite enough. "You can't. Don't be a fool."

Jeremiah just glared at him. "It's not foolish. We can't let Markus and Kurdy just rot in there, and this 'plan' of strolling in there is never going to work. But if Valhalla wants me that bad, they'll trade." He looked at Erin. "You know this is the only way to get them out."

Lee bit his lip. He could see the temptation in Erin's face, and he wondered just how far she was willing to go to get Markus out. She didn't keep anyone waiting long.

She shook her head. "No. Jeremiah, you can't." She sighed. "God knows I want Markus out of there. But I also know he would never want someone to trade their life for his. And if Lee and Charlie are right, and what they fear about your dad really happened and Valhalla Sector got control of the virus, Markus wouldn't be able to live with himself if his life were bought at that kind of price. From what I know about Kurdy, he would agree." Her eyes met Jeremiah's, and for an instant, it was as if they were alone. "I realize that Valhalla's the one place you've wanted to find since the Big Death, but this isn't the way."

"If we can get the prisoners out, we can probably get your dad out, too," O'Neill offered.

"But--" Jeremiah started to object, but Jack cut him off.

The colonel was matter-of-fact. "It's your world, but if you really want to make it a better place, like the way Markus wants, you don't place yourself in the enemies' hands."

To Lee's relief, Jeremiah nodded and settled down sullenly on the floor. Lee pressed his advantage with the idea of Devon escaping. "Devon knows a secret way out of the bunker, so you're gonna have to find a way to talk to him." He looked at O'Neill. "That's probably your best hope."

Kawalsky snorted. "Yeah, since I don't think we'll be walking out the front."

"I think Sam should return to the Mountain, too," Lee suggested.

Jack snapped straight, offended. "Out of the question. We need her outside in case we need some mechanical doohicky to break codes or reprogram the computers."

"Sir," Sam interrupted before Lee could even explain. "I agree, I think I should go back."

Everyone turned to look at her. She gave a bit of a sheepish smile.

O'Neill groaned. "Why?"

Lee was impressed. Even though Jack was impatient, he was willing to listen to first his and Kawalsky's objections and now he was listening to Sam's. Not many at Valhalla would ever listen to someone under them, especially after a decision had been made.

"What if Valhalla attacks Cheyenne?" Sam asked, now looking very concerned. "We can't let that happen. If the gate should fall into their hands, we'll never get home."

A stricken look crossed his face. "I hadn't thought of that."

Sam continued, "I should go back, help them shore up defenses, and maybe begin reprogramming the computer to work the gate. Remember Mister Smith seemed to think that when we rescue our friends we'd find an energy source."

"You really think there's naquadah at Valhalla?" O'Neill asked.

"It's possible, sir."

Erin spoke up hesitantly, "Jack, maybe you should reconsider going in. It's going to be so much harder for you, not knowing the people you should know and that sort of thing. They're going to be looking for mistakes."

"She has a point, Colonel," Sam interjected. "Major Kawalsky knows the situation. He's more likely to be believed -- "

He groaned, impatient with her. "Carter, we've been over this. I'm going, that's that. Now, moving on. What's the rest of the plan?"

Sam shrugged. "I said the beginning of a plan. You'll have to improvise, like we always do."

"That's it?" Jeremiah continued incredulously. "Can I remind everyone that we don't even know for sure that Markus and Kurdy and everybody else are even _**there**_?"

Sam reached across to pat Jeremiah's arm, and he flinched. "We've been in worse jams," she consoled.

"Like the one with Seth?" Jeremiah retorted, jumping back to his feet. "That guy was seriously deranged. You can't blindly go into hostile territory believing it's all going to work out -- you need a better strategy."

Lee wondered what was wrong with him. Jeremiah was a hot-head and was always the one who jumped feet first and damned the consequences.

"O'Neill has saved Earth many times against far superior foes than the ones here," Murray spoke up.

Lee's eyes widened as the implications set in. "Saved Earth?"

"We have infiltrated the Goa'uld many times to disrupt their plans," Murray explained.

"The Goa'uld?" Kawalsky repeated blankly.

Jack waved a hand. "Big baddies. Never mind. I admit, Jeremiah, it's not much of a plan, but it's sort of what we do best. So, we'll go in."

After some brief discussion of what supplies they had on the helicopter, they were ready to go.

Jack stood up and brushed off his pants. "Excellent. Well, people, we all have our jobs. Good luck, Carter. We'll keep in touch."

With that, it was over. They all left the decrepit building. Jack and Kawalsky got in the front of the chopper while Murray sat beside Lee. All four put on their helmets and earphones.

"You know how to fly this?" Kawalsky asked.

"Yep. Why?" Jack asked.

"Weird. The Jack O'Neill that I know doesn't. He can fly fighters, which he learned before the virus hit, but not helicopters."

"Well, here we go."

Jack waved below and then they were airborne, heading east, toward Valhalla Sector.

\---+---

His hands cuffed again, Markus was marched down the hall and into an office, where there were two more guards standing on either side of the door. They came in with him, which meant there were six people in the office: Markus, his four guards, and the person they had come to see.

He had caught the name on the door, Colonel Frank Simmons, and inwardly braced himself.

Simmons was sitting on the other side of a broad wooden work desk. He was in formal uniform again, and Markus wondered whether it was for his benefit or if Simmons wore it all the time. "Take off his cuffs," he ordered. "There's no need to be unpleasant, is there?"

His voice sent a chill down Markus' spine as the guards removed his cuffs. It was a smooth voice, very pleasant, but with a quality that suggested it was a veneer over a far less urbane interior.

"We weren't introduced last night. I'm Colonel Frank Simmons. Please, have a seat," he said, couching his order within a request. "I thought we'd take this time to get acquainted. You see, I know all about you on paper," he purposely ruffled a folder, stuffed with papers. "But I want to know the man who resulted from the child prodigy."

Markus gave a weak chuckle. "Should I feel honored you took the time to compile a dossier on me?"

Simmons smiled. "My former employer was very interested in recruiting you. So we kept an eye on your doings." He glanced down at the file folder in front of him. "Let's see, born in August 1973. The school board agreed to home schooling because at six years old you were already reading at an eighth-grade level and understood algebra and geometry. You were selected a National Scholar, and co-authored two publications. And last, but certainly not least, you were accepted for special early admission to Stanford, but circumstances interfered with attending."

"Circumstances? You mean when you released the virus to take over the world?" Markus couldn't help the accusation, feeling that this man had the cold-blooded need for power.

"I am afraid I can't take the credit for the attempt. If I had been in charge, it would have succeeded," he boasted.

Markus used all his self-control to remain in his seat. He didn't understand how this man could believe selective genocide was a good way to gain power. "If you're waiting for me to be impressed, we'll be here a long time." He paused trying to look as disinterested as he could then added, "So, why the biography?"

Simmons closed the thin file and folded his hands. "It tells me two very important things about you, which can't have changed. One, you're very smart. Probably smarter than I am, so there's no point in my trying to pretend or trick you. And two, you didn't have much of a childhood, even before the disease left you in charge of Thunder Mountain. Did you even have friends, Markus? Or were your parents too busy making sure their little genius was going to get his Ph.D. by his eighteenth birthday?" The totally false sympathy on his face would have made Markus laugh, if the reference to his parents hadn't made him angry.

"Little tip --" Markus said, with equally false helpfulness, "don't go there. When you mention my parents, I remember Quantrell killed them, and that doesn't make me very willing to listen to you."

Simmons regarded Markus for a moment with hooded eyes. "Quantrell? You wouldn't have had anything to do with his disappearance, would you?" he asked.

Markus tried to hide his surprise. How could Simmons not know? No, he knew, he was just playing, trying to get Markus to reveal something. "I heard he's dead," Markus answered blandly.

Simmons shrugged. "I should probably thank you. His incompetence was irritating." He leaned back in his chair. "This is pleasant, isn't it? The two of us talking?" he asked. "Your stay with us can be like this, Markus. I only need you to answer some questions for me, and we can avoid anything… distasteful."

Markus snorted. "Come on. What are you, some kind of politician? What you mean is that I answer your questions or your…" he glanced at the soldiers behind him, "… minions hurt me."

Simmons smiled thinly. "Exactly. I'm glad to see you understand the situation. You see, Markus, you will answer my questions. One way or the other. The other way is painful for you and wastes my time. But it's up to you which way we go. My first question is about the Big Death. There's something at Thunder Mountain, a secret you have."

Markus' eyes widened in shock, and he felt as though he'd been stabbed in the heart with an icicle. A Big Death secret at Thunder Mountain? There was only one thing it could be. He was talking about Meaghan. Shit. Lee had told them. God, no…

Simmons pounced on his change of expression. "You _**do**_ know something. Quantrell was right. What is it?"

Quantrell? He felt slightly better. The word had come from Quantrell, not Lee. Not that it really mattered who had told them. "I don't know what you're talking about. There's no secret," Markus said, staring him full in the face. But the frozen horror inside was growing, and his fingers were trembling. What had he done? _**Meaghan**__…_ He had to fix this. "If there is something, I don't know what it is."

Simmons smiled. "I don't believe you, Markus. Tell me what you know."

"You said it yourself, Quantrell was an incompetent idiot and a liar. You shouldn't believe anything he said," Markus said, but he knew it was for nothing. Simmons knew he was lying.

"If you tell me, I won't have to force it from you," Simmons warned. "And I will, Markus. I'm rather expert at interrogation. You will tell me, but you won't like the process at all. Much easier to tell me now."

Markus breathed deeply and folded his arms. "No, I don't think so. Because the thing is, Simmons, you'd never believe anything I told you anyway. So there's no point."

Simmons didn't exactly deny it either, which told Markus he was right. "I'll give you a little while to think about it. You're a smart man, Markus. Don't let foolish pride get in the way of doing the smart thing. Tell me what I want to know." He glanced at the guards. "Take him back to his cell. He gets no food until I tell you otherwise."

"Yes, sir."

As the guards pulled him to his feet and restored the cuffs, Markus took one look in Simmons' hard black eyes. This man could never find out about Meaghan. If he knew she was in Thunder Mountain, Valhalla would attack and use every lever they had to pry the doors open to get to her. She'd be taken prisoner, used as a lab rat, and everyone else would be killed.

He couldn't let that happen. No matter the cost.


	16. Chapter 16

The convoy of trucks filed down the main street. Suddenly everything went quiet as the engines shut off. Soldiers piled out of houses, surrounding the trucks with sharp orders yelled at the occupants inside the cargo area to stay put. Kurdy was so damned stiff he wasn't sure if he could move when and if they told him to do so. Even his arm had stopped throbbing, or at least his mind has ceased to recognize that particular pain over the others.

When Valhalla had descended upon the Big Meeting, Kurdy had become close and personal with a bullet as he tried to get to Elizabeth. Thankfully it only had grazed his arm. It was enough to cause a lot of bleeding, which worried Elizabeth and caused her to go all mother-hen on him. Her first action had been to wind her scarf around the bleeding flesh, almost cutting off his circulation to his hand. Next she questioned him incessantly to see if he was feeling light-headed from blood-loss. The last was the constant touching of his forehead to detect a fever from infection. Not that he minded her touching him, she could touch him anytime, anywhere, he just objected to the clinical nature of it all. He was fine, he insisted. Theo even came to his rescue and told Elizabeth to stop nagging.

He looked over at Elizabeth, who was staring at him, worry etched all over her face. He gave her a smile of reassurance, which made her frown even more. They were packed like sardines, bumping up against each other as the truck traveled across country to whatever prison Valhalla Sector had decided to dump them. At least the truck had finally stopped.

The back canvas cover was lifted and several faces peered inside. "What the hell are we supposed to do with these people?" a man barked as he closed the drape once more.

More muffled voices, then the trucks began moving. Everyone sighed, their hopes dashed that at last they had reached their destination. The journey had been grueling, with only one stop that night, and then another around dawn. Kurdy glanced at Theo, who had been strangely silent for the last four hours. Maybe her vocal cords had broken? She gave him a farce of a smile when the trucks lurched to another stop.

The cover was thrown open. "Everybody out!" a soldier shouted.

Bodies began to disengage from one another. Kurdy spied Elizabeth's new friend, as she hopped down, surprisingly limber. When Valhalla had attacked, this woman who had never met Elizabeth before, had stepped out and protected Elizabeth until Kurdy had jumped into the melee.

Soon it became their turn to disembark. As Kurdy helped Elizabeth down, her legs buckled. He did his best to remain upright and support her, despite the searing pain in his shoulder.

"Thanks for the help, sweet pea," Theo called out, as Kurdy turned away. "Never you mind about _**my**_ tired ol' legs. Theo's right fine--ugh," she moaned as a soldier prodded her with the butt of his gun.

"Move it," he commanded.

"You gonna do something for his arm?" Theo demanded.

Elizabeth turned around. "He was shot and has been bleeding. He really should see a doctor," she insisted.

Kurdy wanted to sink into the ground. The last thing he wanted was to call attention to himself. He intended to escape and as long as he was only a face in the crowd he had hopes. Good intentions be damned.

"Later!" the soldier pushed her along.

Kurdy did his own prodding. "Not now," he whispered. The building in front of him had once been a school. The line of captives marched from the trucks through the big front door and down a wide hall. The guards split them, sending about fifty of them into a gymnasium, while the others continued, doubtless to other locations within the school.

Inside the gym doors was a fenced cage at least eight feet high and set two feet from the gym's walls with looped barbed wire at the top, presumably to prevent anyone from climbing out. And if the wire wasn't enough deterrent, there were soldiers, carrying guns, walking the perimeter, ever watchful. Kurdy gazed at his surroundings with a practiced eye looking for some weakness he might be able to exploit later.

"I wish we could find a way to clean the wound," Elizabeth remarked worriedly.

"Later," Kurdy responded, hoping that if he didn't think about his arm, the pain would go away. Elizabeth harping on it wasn't helping and if you couldn't change something it was better not to even think about it.

"Well, would you look at that," Theo said as Jo-Lynn wandered back toward the cage door, doing something with her hips that Kurdy couldn't help watching.

"Now that's a girl out on the prowl," Theo added. "With that kind of bait, I wonder how long it'll take her to reel in a big one?"

Kurdy watched as a guard went up to her ready to issue some dire warning. Then she spoke quietly, making him bend closer to her. He nodded his head and went to talk to one of his cohorts. In a short span of time a cart was brought in carrying a carboy filled with water and a few cups. He also had a bowl and a rag, which he handed to Jo-Lynn.

"She's good," Theo remarked with admiration.

Jo came over and handed her prize to Elizabeth. "Here's some water. Go ahead and clean it. We really need to prevent infection." She aimed the last at Kurdy in case he was going to object.

With only a token sigh of resentment, Kurdy unwrapped the bandages and gave Elizabeth access to the bleeding mess.

"While you're playing doctor and patient, Theo will go work her own kind of magic." Her voice was full of promise.

Expecting a copy of Jo-Lynn's antics, Kurdy's eyebrows raised and he couldn't stop a laugh as he watched Theo saunter over, spitting and hissing like a cornered cat. "I hope you boys don't expect Theo to sleep with all this riff-raff. I demand better quarters. I've been cooped up in a **smelly** truck with hundreds of **smelly** bodies crushed against me. I need a bath and a decent night's sleep."

"Back-off, slut," one of the guards shoved her and slammed the cage door shut, padlocking them in.

Not to be ignored, Theo grabbed hold of the fence and began shaking it vigorously. "Hey! Get back here. I'm not done talking. You brought me here against my will. The least you can do is find me better accommodations."

Two soldiers poked their gun barrels into her chest. "Stop that, bitch, or I'll shoot you where you stand."

"Think of the mess and the _**smell**_ if you spray my innards all over. And I can tell you Markus'll come kick your ass for how you've treated his friends."

They gave her another shove with the guns and she backed-off, letting go of the bars, but not before she gave them another shake. She stood out of their reach with her hands on her hips as if waiting for her demands to be met.

Elizabeth leaned over and whispered in Kurdy's ears. "I think she's planning on making their lives as miserable as she possibly can."

Kurdy replied, "It's what she does best." Although Kurdy couldn't understand why she drew attention to the fact that she knew Markus personally. Seemed like a good way to get questioned.

Theo stalked back over to them, wearing a triumphant smile. "I guarantee you, the leader here will know and fear the name Theo."

Elizabeth giggled, but Kurdy muttered, "Don't we all." He looked over at Jo-Lynn who had meandered to the gate and was conversing with two more soldiers sitting upon a small stage beyond the fence. It had no curtains, only a few military issue crates pushed to one side. Mostly it was an elevated platform to allow the guards a better view of the prisoners.

One of the soldiers was smoking, blowing rings toward Jo-Lynn as she smiled and Kurdy swore she batted her eyelashes. Both men straightened, shuffled their seat, and talked back to her. Suddenly another guard came through a side door and yelled at the two, who shot to their feet. Jo gave them a casual wave and the three men started their route around the cage. She walked beside them for a few steps and then casually returned to where Elizabeth had just finished cleaning Kurdy's arm. As soon as the men had their backs to Jo her manner of walking abruptly changed, now that she wasn't playing to an audience. "It appears we will be here for a long while," she murmured as she squatted beside Kurdy and gazed at his wound. "No one knows what to do with us. Markus Alexander was delivered straight to Valhalla Sector."

"Poor Markus," Elizabeth groaned. "Do you think they're going to hurt him?"

"Of course, sugar-pie," Theo answered, joining them. "Not that our boy's gonna cave. Oh no. He's the kind that will hold on his honor all the way to the grave. No amount of pain can make him betray his family, and that's what the End of the World is to him."

Kurdy felt Elizabeth shudder and he felt a sting of guilt. He should have been there with Markus. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're here with me," she told him.

He didn't have the heart to tell her that if they couldn't find a way to escape, chances were they'd all be executed. For now, all they were was leverage, to make Markus talk.

\---+---

The room looked a little like an operating room, with bare, sparkling linoleum, and a stainless steel table beneath bright lights. But the table had manacles for wrists and ankles. There was a small cart beside the table filled with various medical-looking equipment, including needles and small vials.

Markus' feet stopped as fear turned into a knot in his chest. What the hell were they going to do?

Simmons was there too. He had changed into olive BDU's in the intervening hours. He let Markus look his fill and then said, "One last chance. Tell me about the Big Death secret at Cheyenne."

"There is no Big Death secret in Thunder Mountain." Markus was pleased his voice didn't quaver, even though his heart was pounding. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Simmons sighed. "Not very smart, Markus. I give you a chance to spare yourself considerable pain and humiliation, and you reject it. As you wish." He gave a little smirk as he ordered the guards, "Put him on the table."

For the first time, he actively resisted. He fought the guards, using his feet, elbows, and his head, nearly getting free. Until a fist plowed into his stomach, and as he was reflexively trying to curl up, unable to breathe, they renewed their grip on his arms and dragged him to the table. He kicked out when one grabbed his ankles, hitting him a good one across the jaw with his bare foot. But it didn't stop them -- they slung him on the table and held him down long enough to snap all the manacles in place. Markus yanked at them, but they held securely. He looked up into the bright lights and then turned his head, looking for Simmons.

"Remove his shirt," Simmons ordered. "He won't be needing it anymore." The guard he'd kicked tore off his shirt with a vengeful sneer. Simmons came closer and smiled down at Markus. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me, Markus?"

"You and all your jackboot thugs can go to hell."

"Temper, temper," Simmons chided. "Let me introduce you to someone, Markus. Doctor Gordon Fukizaki. He's head of our vaccine program, and he volunteered to help out today. He's very curious about that mysterious Big Death secret you have."

A slender black-haired Japanese man stepped into view beside Simmons. He didn't look at Markus, busying himself with a glass vial in his hands.

Simmons continued, "He's going to administer some drugs to you. The combination tends to loosen tongues quite well."

Markus looked more closely at Fukizaki as the doctor bent closer and tied a rubber tourniquet around his arm. This was the man Lee had mentioned as being mysteriously 'friendly' with Devon. So whose side was he on?

He couldn't tell from Fukizaki's face--it revealed nothing. "You don't have to do this," Markus whispered. "Please don't do this."

"It'll be all right, young one," Fukizaki murmured. "This isn't painful."

The doctor pulled a careful dose into a needle and mechanically checked it for air bubbles. "This is a combination of a muscle relaxant and an opiate," he said a little more loudly. "It should begin to work right away, making the subject relaxed and his mind pliable."

Then he inserted the needle in the crook of his elbow, so deftly Markus barely felt it go in. Even the drug entering his bloodstream was scarcely noticeable.

But he felt the effects almost immediately. His limbs started to feel heavy, until he couldn't even move his legs when he tried. Oh God. It was working. Any minute now the other drug would kick in and his mind would flutter off, and he'd babble anything to anybody. No, he couldn't tell them anything. Better not even to think about it. Think of equations. Think back to when the world could be explained with enough math.

"He should be starting to feel sleepy," Fukizaki said, bringing Markus back from his panic induced horror.

But he didn't feel sleepy. Relaxed yes. He could feel his arms and legs; he just couldn't do much with them. He realized his mouth was open and it was a lot of effort to close it. But he seemed to be thinking the same as ever.

He looked to Fukizaki, who had Simmons behind him. The thin features seemed to soften in that moment, with a tiny flash of a reassuring smile. Aloud, he said, "Give it a few minutes to work, Simmons. And then ask your questions. I'm sure you'll find the young man more willing to answer truthfully."

Fukizaki used a stethoscope to check his heart rate and then a pen light in his eyes. He put the light back in his pocket and stepped away from the table. "Markus, can you answer me?"

Markus didn't want to speak. But he thought he knew what had happened -- someone, probably the doctor, had given him only part of the drugs that made up the 'truth serum'. The muscle relaxant masked that his mind was still working just fine.

He was very afraid it was a trap of some kind, or some sort of mind game, but he clung to hope. If Devon was friendly with him, maybe it was because Fukizaki did what he could to help during these interrogation sessions. Maybe the doctor had figured out that it wasn't in the world's interest for Valhalla Sector to discover the vaccine.

He certainly wasn't smiling, as Simmons was, enjoying the sight of Markus helpless in front of him.

Markus realized that if Fukizaki had switched vials, then it would be very dangerous for them both to give away the secret. So he lowered his eyes as if he was getting sleepy, forcing them open and then letting them drift shut again.

"Markus, I know you can hear me," Fukizaki said. "It's time to answer."

"Okay," Markus murmured.

"Colonel Simmons is going to ask you some questions, Markus," Fukizaki continued. "It's okay to say whatever comes first into your head."

Markus smiled inwardly. Fukizaki was doing a great job of indicating what his responses should be. He said, "Okay."

A rustling sound indicated Simmons moving back to the side of the table. "What is the secret relating to the Big Death in Thunder Mountain?"

"Secret?" Markus repeated blankly.

"There's something hidden at Thunder Mountain relating to the Big Death," Simmons said. "What is it?"

"Big Death… that was years ago," Markus drew it out just as long as he could. It was hard keeping the smile off his face. Good thing he could keep his eyes closed. "Nothing left. Everybody died. All the grown ups. Bodies everywhere… but we burned them. All gone."

"No, not the Big Death itself," Simmons insisted, impatience threading his voice. "There's something there. Something else."

Not aloud, but inside, Markus swore coldly, _I will die before I say one word about Meaghan, I promise on the memory of my parents._

Aloud, he continued in the breezy, distant tone, "Quantrell was gone… disappeared. I hoped he was dead."

"I'm not interested in Quantrell, Markus," Simmons said in a tight, but obviously irritated tone.

_That makes two of us, you son of a bitch,_ Markus thought. He let the silence drag on.

"What else is there in Thunder Mountain that relates to the Big Death?" Simmons asked, trying the same question in slightly different words.

So Markus gave him the same answer in different words back. But he hoped that Simmons would move on to something else before he managed to betray how difficult it was to talk about the Big Death. "Blood. All over the floor. Took us a year to clean it up."

On the other side of the room, Fukizaki gave a small, choked sound that made Markus feel a little better about trusting him. Obviously his compassion hadn't totally worn away in this place.

But Simmons had enough. "Gordon! Why isn't it working?"

Fukizaki's tone was neutral. "He's telling you how the Big Death hit Thunder Mountain, Simmons."

"That's not what I want to know!"

"Maybe that's all he knows," the doctor suggested.

"You're the one who told me about the secret in the first place!" Simmons accused.

"I thought you and General Waverly might want to know what Quantrell told me," Fukizaki answered coolly. "I have no idea if he was telling the truth or not. This was after you discovered that Thunder Mountain was still occupied despite his report -- perhaps he told me so I would intercede for him with the general."

Simmons said nothing for a long moment. Markus dared not open his eyes, knowing that Simmons was watching him and mulling it over. It was a very strange sensation, to be so alert and yet so relaxed. He knew that he was chilled -- the room was cold and he had only his pants on -- but he couldn't even shiver.

"No," Simmons said finally. "He knows something. He's still protecting it." His finger ran down the outer side of Markus' arm and then took a little skin and twisted it, hard.

Eyes popping open at the sudden pain, Markus jerked his arm, trying to get free. But his muscles responded sluggishly. He realized this could be a problem -- he could still feel everything, just not move very well.

Simmons was smiling again. His gaze met Markus'. "You're still awake in there, aren't you?" he asked. "Maybe it's that freakish brain of yours. Or maybe you're stubborn. But this is obviously not going to work, so we're going to try something else." He glanced up. "Gordon, bring the cart to your left."

For a moment there was silence, enough time for Markus to wonder what else Simmons was going to do.

"I will not," Fukizaki answered, sounding both annoyed and disgusted. "I am not one of your underlings, _**Frank**_. I am not subject to your orders and I don't have to help you torture anyone."

"Afraid of getting your hands dirty?" Simmons sneered. "Fine. I'll do it. But don't sit up there on your little high horse and pretend you don't want to know as much as I do. Sergeant Ramirez, push the cart over to me."

Markus couldn't help turning his head to look, even though he was sure he didn't want to. Power supply, wires, and leads. His stomach made one slow turn of fear and dread.

He looked up at the bright light overhead, and tried to ignore the feel of the band going across his forehead to hold his head down, the thing they forced in his mouth, and the touch of the little sticky pads applied to his skin.

He closed his eyes and fixed the image of Meaghan in his mind -- her dark hair, brilliant eyes, kind smile, the way her hand touched the glass…

His thoughts reached out for her, hoping that somehow she could hear him.

_I'm sorry, love. I wanted to come back to you, really I did. But they're going to kill me, and all I can do is make sure that they don't find out about you first._

When darkness finally fell on him, the sound of his own screams was still echoing in his ears.


	17. Chapter 17

Hours passed. Daniel waited in his cell in a state of nervous dread. One would think after all his experience at having to wait around while his friends were tortured that he'd have become used to it. But he never did. It was still just as horrible.

Raising his hopes, the guards had brought lunch instead, which they slid through the slot at the bottom of the door. Unfortunately nobody would answer his questions about Markus. Daniel ate with little appetite and the guards took away the tray afterward, still saying nothing.

More time crept by, until finally the outer door opened and he heard the sound of several booted feet approaching. He stood and moved toward the bars across the front of the cell. Thankfully Daniel was in the first cell, with Markus' on the far side, so they had to bring him past.

But he almost wished he'd remained ignorant when he actually saw Markus. His bare feet dragged on the ground and his head was hanging, clearly unconscious. His shirt had gotten lost somewhere, and Daniel could see the tell-tale signs of torture by electric shock.

"My God, what have you people done?" he demanded in outrage. He knew it was wasted, the guards didn't give two figs, but he couldn't help it. He pounded with his fists on the bars. "What did he _**ever**_ do to deserve this sort of thing? You're gonna kill him!"

The silent guards just opened Markus' cell door, let him fall to the floor, and locked the door again, leaving the way they came in.

"Markus?" Daniel called, without much hope that he would get an answer. "Markus, if you can hear me, can you say something?"

There was only silence.

Daniel sank down in the front corner of his cell nearest Markus' and prepared for a long wait. He called Markus' name once in a while to see if he was awake, but there was no sound from the other cell at all.

Less than an hour later, the block door opened and Daniel stood up, wondering who it was going to be.

The Asian man who entered was not wearing a uniform, but he was unescorted which told Daniel he was of some importance in the facility. He walked right past Daniel without a glance inside, going to stand before Markus' cell and look into it.

"Haven't you people done enough?" Daniel demanded.

The other man didn't even look his way, only remained staring inside the cell as one might look at an interesting animal at the zoo.

"Hey, who are you?" Daniel asked, with no response. He began to wonder if the man even spoke English, as hard as that was to conceive. He looked only a little older than Daniel, with his black hair untouched by gray and only the tiniest of lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows. But being older than Daniel meant he was a survivor, and therefore had probably spent the last fifteen years in Valhalla Sector and presumably spoke at least some English.

But he decided to try something anyway. "_Nihon-go wakarimasu ka?"_ The Japanese got no answer. Nor did Daniel's mangled Cantonese, which made _**him**_ wince with shame and surely would have gotten a response from a native speaker.

Finally, irritated by being ignored, he snapped out, "_Nemath kree!"_ Goa'uld was such a good language for ordering people around, even when they couldn't understand you.

The other man whipped around, with an open-mouthed expression of such mingled fear and surprise that made Daniel curious that he had provoked such a reaction. Then the man's expression turned into a milder frown, but the black eyes watched Daniel very closely. "What did you say?" he asked in perfectly good, American-accented English.

"I told you to speak to me. Who are you?"

"Doctor Gordon Fukizaki." He took a few steps closer, almost within touching distance, and frowned again. Then he shook his head slightly in dismissal and moved back to look again at Markus. "Has he roused at all?"

"No," Daniel answered, more politely now that he knew that the other man was a doctor. "Not that I've heard. Are you here to help him?"

"I doubt he _**wants**_ my help," Fukizaki muttered, then he turned to look down the hall and shouted, "Sergeant!"

One of the guards came trotting up. "Doctor?"

"Open the cell. I need to examine him." The examination lasted only a few minutes and then Fukizaki stepped outside again.

"How is he?" Daniel asked anxiously.

"Not well. Open his cell -- " Fukizaki instructed the guard and pointed at Daniel. "Your name is Daniel, right?" Daniel nodded. "Open Daniel's cell," he repeated, ordering the sergeant, "and bring him in here."

The guard's eyes widened. "Doctor, I don't have the authority to move the prisoners."

"I do," Fukizaki declared. "And if you'd like to get confirmation of that from General Waverly, I'm sure he would be delighted to explain the concept of chain of command to you."

The sergeant swallowed nervously at the cold threat and took out his keys. "Of course not, sir."

"Someone has to look after Markus," Fukizaki said, while Daniel went unresisting from his cell to the one next door, taking only his jacket. He could have made a break for it -- Jack probably would have, he thought -- since there were only two men in the hall and he was unrestrained in any way. But the door at the end of the short corridor was closed and probably locked, and a glance into Markus' cell said that there was no way he could leave him like that alone.

He was lying on his back on the cold concrete, mouth slack and his eyes closed. He was very pale and still. If Daniel hadn't looked very carefully to see his chest rising in slow breaths, he would have thought Markus was dead.

The doctor came in with him and took the jacket from his limp fingers, putting Markus in it with an ease that belied his size.

"That should help warm him. Come, help me put him on the cot. The drugs he was given should start wearing off soon," the doctor told him while they moved Markus to the cot. He rolled up the blanket and put it under Markus' bare feet, twitching a fold over them to keep them warm. "Hopefully he will rouse then. When he does, make sure he drinks some water, but only a little at a time. Reassure him that the pain and weakness _**will**_ pass."

"Great. So then he can be tortured again?" Daniel asked sarcastically.

The doctor flinched. He glanced over his shoulder, checking the position of the guard, and leaned close to murmur very softly, "I will help as much as I can." He saw the understanding on Daniel's face and nodded once. More loudly he said as he got to his feet, "I'll return in another hour or so to check on him."

"Thank you, Doctor," Daniel said.

Fukizaki's smile was more a grimace. "There is nothing to thank me for."

He left, and Daniel put the doctor's slightly odd behavior to the back of his mind to concentrate on Markus. He picked up the small aluminum cup from the back of the basin and filled it from the spigot, putting the cup on the floor in readiness. After zipping up Markus' jacket, Daniel didn't know what else to do. So again, he waited.

His patience was rewarded when Markus stirred not long after. It took fifteen minutes for his eyes to open and some awareness to show there. Even that little was clouded with pain that mixed with confusion when he saw Daniel. "Daniel?" the words came out as a disbelieving croak.

"It's me," Daniel confirmed. "They let me stay with you. Here," sliding his left arm under Markus' head to raise it up, he held the cup to his lips. "Drink a little."

Markus tried to raise his hand to help, but barely managed to lift it up to his chest before he gave up with sharp breath.

"Just take it easy," Daniel advised. "The doctor told me the pain and weakness will pass. You're going to be fine."

Markus sipped at the water and looked exhausted when Daniel put him down. But he still tried to talk, even though it was barely a breathy whisper. "They wanted to know about a secret we have… in the mountain about the Big Death." His fingers managed to clutch Daniel's sleeve, and his dark eyes fixed on Daniel's. "There is no secret, Daniel."

But of course there was, Daniel realized. He remembered what Sam had said about the woman who had lived in isolation for the last fifteen years because she was a carrier of the virus. A woman whom Sam had seemed to think that Markus loved -- and Daniel saw the truth of it in Markus' gaze. He was desperate to protect her. "I know," Daniel said softly and took Markus' fingers from their death-grip on his sleeve, laying them gently on his chest. "There is no such secret. What they want doesn't exist."

Satisfied that Daniel understood, Markus let his eyes close. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I knew how dangerous it could be… shouldn't have let you come."

Daniel couldn't help a small smile. "I knew what I could be getting myself into, Markus. I walked into it with my eyes open. I'm glad I did. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I got to watch a new civilization be born. That's pretty special."

Markus didn't respond, and Daniel guessed he'd fallen asleep. He patted the limp hand once. "Get some rest."

\---+---

'_We have a problem,'_ Malek said to Chuan as they went back to their quarters to think things through.

'_I think we have several_,' Chaun answered. '_We need to get Markus out of here before Simmons manages to kill him and get Daniel out of here before Simmons figures out that he's __not what he seems.'_

_'His origins are a puzzle,' _Malek agreed,_ 'although he does appear to be human.' _The Tok'ra was chagrined how violently he had reacted to the sound of Goa'uld. He had not been paying attention to Daniel at all, concerned for Markus, and the words had taken him totally by surprise. He had thought Daniel _**was**_ a Goa'uld for one moment, before his senses had informed him that it wasn't true. But the use of the language had confirmed that there was a chappa'ai and Daniel had come through it.

'_Good recovery, by the way. I don't think he suspected us at all,' _Chuan said, and Malek at first thought he was being sarcastic, but then felt the sincerity of his words.

'_I must be more careful._'

'_It gives us a way to communicate with him that can't be understood,' _Chuan pointed out thoughtfully_. 'That may be very useful when we help them escape.'_

Though Malek agreed, he was thinking about a plan. _'One step at a time. We need to find out what happened to Jolinar and the rest of the prisoners from the meeting. They didn't come here. Once we know that, perhaps we can communicate that knowledge to Thunder Mountain somehow. Devon and Libby will help_

Malek felt Chuan's agreement but also his reluctance. '_That may take days, Malek. If Simmons keeps up with the brutality he showed today, I doubt Markus will outlast the week.'_

'_Then we will have Waverly intervene. He doesn't want Markus killed.'_ But Malek thought he felt something else. '_I know we share concern for Markus Alexander, but you seem anxious about his survival. Why?'_

Slowly, as if he was just organizing unformed thoughts and feelings, Chuan answered, '_I admire his courage. He knew what he faced, but did not shrink. I suppose it confirmed my belief that we must save him. This world has such little hope, we must do what we can to keep it alive in him.'_

'_We will,'_ Malek promised.

\---+---

Jolinar leaned back against the fence, her eyes darting from one person to the next. It was inconceivable that Valhalla Sector would leave this many prisoners in one place and not expect some kind of revolt. Someone in here had to be reporting morale and whispered plots to the leaders. All she had to do was identify the person.

'_It's not going to be easy_,' Rosha commented as they both took inventory of the room.

Unfortunately Rosha was correct. Anyone could talk to the perimeter guards along the fence, just as she had done. Too many opportunities for the passing of information without being noticed.

'_Assuming there is one here,'_ Rosha added. '_There are other holding pens.'_

Rosha was beginning to feel impatient from the lack of knowledge, so Jolinar remained calm. '_We have expertise that none of these children would expect. An infiltrator will make a mistake and we will see it. But it would have helped if we could have communicated our __situation to Lantash or__ Malek before they took away the necklace_.' Jolinar reached up automatically to touch the necklace, and then lowered her hand again. As soon as they had been rounded up, soldiers had frisked them for hidden weapons and anything of value.

Kurdy came over. "How you doing, Jo?" he asked.

'_Jo_?' Rosha thought in delight. '_We've acquired a nick name_.'

"I am well," Jolinar answered, amused by her host's pleasure.

"Wonder if or when they're going to feed us," Kurdy asked, his eyes darting from the guards to the door.

"Sanitation is also going to be a problem," Jolinar answered. "Are they going to take us out in shifts to use the lavatories?"

The large gym doors opened and a dark-haired man in olive military garb strode in. Walking slightly behind him were two other armed soldiers.

'_The leader_,' Jolinar thought silently, appraising him.

"Attention everyone. My name is Captain Ken Davis. The President has requested that we keep you here until further orders are given. It is in all of our best interests for you to be calm and to accept this temporary incarceration. We'll do our best to provide as our resources allow. I urge you not to try and escape. My soldiers will shoot to kill--no second chances. I'm sure your stay will be short and the order for your release will come soon."

"President?" Elizabeth muttered in surprise.

"Release?" Kurdy whispered under his breath. "There's not going to be a release."

Jolinar had to concur. This was just a way to keep the masses in order.

The captain continued. "In a few minutes, armed guards will be bringing in the food. Take a bowl and sit down. More water will be brought in separately."

Theo jumped up and grabbed the fence. "Enough of this shit," she spoke disgustedly. "Short stay, my ass! How long you gonna keep us? And where's Markus?" she demanded, rattling the cage in anger.

Everywhere people started muttering to themselves.

"That is none of your concern," Davis replied. "Markus Alexander will be questioned and let go, as will you."

"You really don't expect us to buy that pile of shit, do you? Well, let me tell you, Theo wasn't born yesterday." She backed up and stood with her hands on her hips staring defiantly up at the man. "You're gonna torture poor Markus and then you're gonna start on these miserable bones and everyone else in this here gym. We're **not** gonna sit quietly waiting for our own death like sheep."

Jolinar had all she could do to keep from grinning. This little spitfire was causing all kinds of grief.

'_Is this wise_?' Rosha asked. '_I mean, she's calling attention to herself and getting everyone else all worked up_?'

'_Yes, she's keeping them off guard_.'

'_We have no weapons, no_\--'

'_Theo doesn't need them_,' Jolinar answered. '_She'll gain them as she goes_.'

Rosha began to see Theo's intention. '_It might work. This isn't a technique I've encountered before_.'

'_That's because most of the slaves we've seen of the Goa'uld are so beaten down they have no spirit left. These are children of war and desperation. Only the very strong have survived_.'

Davis ordered, "Step away from the door and we'll bring in the food." Theo stared in defiance then pivoted and stalked back to Elizabeth.

Using a key, a guard opened the padlock, and the gate swung open. Two others brought in carts as armed guards stood at the entrance. People began milling around, their only thought getting their share of the food. It smelled warm and enticing. Pessimistically, Jolinar wondered if it was poisoned or drugged. Theo waited as if she too wondered at the food's safety.

"I'll look at your arm after dinner. Let me test the food first." Kurdy gave her a strange look, which she ignored. Jolinar took a bowl and ate some of the stew. She could detect no poisons or ingredients that would make a human sick. She went over to Kurdy. "It is safe," she told him.

"And you know this how?" he questioned.

"I am well versed in known poisons and their use."

"Too bad you didn't bring any," he commented dryly before accompanying Elizabeth to get their share.

Theo immediately took a bowl, grumbling the whole time. The four returned to their claimed space to sit and eat. Jolinar glanced several times at Kurdy. "Have you lived your whole life in Thunder Mountain?" she asked, initiating a conversation.

"How do you know about Thunder Mountain?" he accused.

She wore a puzzled expression. "Isn't that the name of Markus Alexander's home? Elizabeth mentioned it while we were waiting for him to begin speaking."

Kurdy shot a look at Elizabeth, silently chiding her for talking about it to a stranger. "Shhh. It is, but the name's not common knowledge."

"I understand. You try to guard against assassination attempts." She paused then asked, "Have you known Markus all your life?"

"No, I haven't," Kurdy answered, although still not looking comfortable with the question.

"I have," Elizabeth answered. "My dad was stationed there when the Big Death hit. Markus kept everyone together after all the adults died."

"It must have been a difficult time," Jolinar commiserated.

"It was a hard time for everyone," Kurdy rebuke, "especially those of us who didn't have someone like Markus to help us. Or didn't you notice?" he added as he took another bite of stew.

Fortunately, he wasn't looking for an answer, so Jolinar kept prompting. "So, what brought you there?"

"Serendipity," he answered sourly.

Elizabeth exchanged a serious look with Kurdy, both looking sad.

Theo slapped her leg. "Why, I think it was my own self that paved the way."

Kurdy and Elizabeth as one turned to her, glaring.

"What? Can't I take the credit?" she asked with false innocence.

"You're taking the credit for killing a good man because he didn't fall in with your wishes?" Kurdy asked, dumbfounded and sounding angry.

Theo didn't look cowed. "I was covering my own backside. It's what we do on the outside. Your little Simon was sniffing around in things that was my business."

Jolinar realized that maybe this wasn't such a good topic to bring up.

\---+---

With some rueful amusement, Jack realized he wasn't as young as he once was, as he had to stretch and walk around to loosen all the muscles that had tightened up during their cross-country helicopter trip. It had taken all day, slowed even more by crossing the Blue Ridge Mountains at low altitude to avoid Valhalla's radar. Kawalsky and Chen had discussed how close they could get, but fuel in the end had made the decision for them. They were carrying extra, but Lee and Teal'c would need enough to come pick up the escapees and not run out on the way back to Cheyenne.

After landing, a tense hour had passed while they waited for anyone to come investigate the helicopter. But luckily the forest seemed as uninhabited as it appeared. That, or the locals were so familiar with Valhalla Sector helicopters, another one flying overhead was nothing special.

Their campsite was in a wooded area not far from an interstate that still cut its way through the hills. The landing had been tricky among trees and rocks to a relatively flat spot, but once snuggled in, Jack thought they were fairly well concealed from anything but a direct flyover.

They put up a tarp to shelter the bedrolls and a table for a cook stove. They even had a cooler full of fresh food and two gallons of drinking water. Compared to most of Jack's missions, their camp was luxurious. Jack was feeling so comfortable, he offered to make dinner -- chicken, tomatoes, and rice, which they ate in shifts, with one person on watch. Kawalsky and Lee cleaned the dishes in the nearby stream, while Teal'c went on a perimeter walk.

As the light started fading, Jack slouched in his canvas chair and idly wished for beer to make the evening perfect. But water instead of beer reminded him that the evening was far from perfect, and somewhere to the northeast there was an impenetrable enemy bunker waiting.

He pulled up his chair to the table. "Okay, campers, let's see a map. Where the hell are we and where are they?"

Lee unfolded an old road map of western Virginia. "We're about here, along I-81. Valhalla Sector is here." He tapped a spot north of them.

Jack looked at it and frowned. Something about the area tickled his memory. He'd originally believed that Valhalla Sector was located in the old Greenbrier facility. Even though he'd been told Virginia it must have somehow subconsciously clung to him, because he knew about this place too.

"Mount Pegasus," he realized with a snap of his fingers. "Damn it, why didn't anybody _**tell**_ me that it was Mount Pegasus? All you people with your new names -- couldn't you call things their real names, like Cheyenne and Mount Pegasus so everybody knows what the hell you're talking about?"

Lee actually gave a bit of a smile. The kid was _**amused**_ by his grousing. "That would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?" he asked. "In any case, Valhalla Sector gets its name from 'Operation Valhalla' which was run during the last days of the Big Death, when the military scooped up as many uninfected scientists to work on the virus as they could. Mount Pegasus was the only one of the Cold War bunkers with full lab facilities."

"Most of the government and military leaders went other places," Kawalsky explained as an aside. "They all sprung leaks and died."

Jack shook his head in amazement. So much for impenetrable bunkers. "Well, the good news is I've actually been to Mount Pegasus. Only once, and it was a hell of a long time ago, but I was part of a readiness inspection tour there. Tell me what's there now."

Kawalsky and Lee gave him a verbal rundown, even making little sketches of each level in the empty corners of the map. Jack committed them to memory -- it wasn't difficult since Mount Pegasus had a straight-forward layout that matched what he remembered. There were five main levels, each easily four times the square-footage of Cheyenne's, though he thought Cheyenne was larger overall. Storage, the mainframe, and machinery were at the bottom, the middle three were housing, offices, and labs, and the top level held more equipment, vehicles, and the weapons. The small brig facility was on level four, though Lee cautioned that the prisoners might be kept anywhere, especially if there were more than a few of them.

"So," Kawalsky leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles and giving Jack a level stare. "What else?"

"Maybe you should run down the chain of command, in case I know anyone."

"General Waverly is the real leader of Valhalla. We have a congress," he emphasized the last word sarcastically, "but Waverly controls them. Under the general are two colonels, or at least these are the two that you have to worry about. The first is Simmons. He is one mean, sadistic, SOB, smart as hell, and has a lust for power barely kept in check by Waverly. The second is West."

Jack kept himself from rolling his eyes. How was he getting this lucky? "Let me guess," Jack inserted wryly. "West does everything Waverly tells him because he has no concept of anything but kissing ass and doing what he's told?"

"Something like that. As long as Waverly goes through the motions of having elections and representatives, West is dogmatic in following him. West loves order and gets nervous when things don't go as planned. Of course they all have peons that obey every command without question."

Charlie paused, as if trying to think of anyone else, then came up with two other colonels and a few majors, but no one Jack had heard of before. Simmons and West were enough as it was. "Okay. Now to get ourselves in the door."

Charlie nodded. "I have an idea. Now, it occurs to me that Jack -- my Jack -- and I only know that they think we sold out Mr. Chen here because our informant in Millhaven told us so. The troops just wanted to take us prisoner, we resisted and took off. I think we could get away with saying we thought there was some kind of coup attempt going on in Millhaven or even Valhalla itself. We decided to go straight back to Valhalla Sector and find out what was really going on."

Lee nodded slowly, his expression deeply shadowed by the angle of the lamp's light. "That would take several days without supply support, and give you a reason to avoid the main Valhalla patrols. Which of course you have to, since you're _**here**_ and not in Kentucky someplace."

Jack grimaced. "Are they gonna buy that? Why wouldn't we radio the base and ask?"

"Can't," Kawalsky answered with gleeful satisfaction. "We lost our comm gear when they shot at us. Gee, what a tragedy."

"Perhaps instead, it was stolen," Teal'c suggested, coming back, and obviously having heard most of the conversation. "And you were forced to find an alternate means of transport."

"That's good," Jack nodded. "I like it, T. Anything to report?"

"No. There are many game trails, but no recent human tracks within two miles."

"Good, it's as deserted as it looks. Here's what we're gonna do. Kawalsky, you and Chen work out a timeline: when we left Millhaven, where we went, when our jeep was stolen along with our gear, and how we got new stuff. As detailed as you can come up with, and we'll memorize it tomorrow, and you can quiz us. In the meantime, I'm going to hit the hay. Wake me for last watch."

He left it for them to figure out their own watches. Chen hadn't said so, but Jack knew he had some military training as well, and anyway he was suspicious enough to want a watch kept, despite Teal'c's assurances that they were alone out here.

In his bag, he closed his eyes, but sleep was elusive.

His thoughts kept turning around how this world was so much like his, and yet so incredibly different. He'd found Kawalsky again. Teal'c had told him of teaching Jaffa staff-fighting to the late Major Carl Warren in Thunder Mountain, so there was another who was still alive here who had fallen to the Goa'uld. Plus Erin Gant, and even -- probably -- a Tok'ra host in Markus. And how weird was it that he was going off to infiltrate an enemy HQ in order to help him, partly on the word of a young man who claimed to hear God?

And how much weirder was it that Jack believed him? Or at least believed that he had some sort of supernatural knowledge, Jack amended, not comfortable even in his own thoughts to accept that God was talking to anybody. But the kid had known stuff. And Jack had certainly seen enough crazy, amazing displays with Nurrti's experiments and Jonas foretelling the future not to dismiss it out of hand.

But, just in case… He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, directing his thoughts outward:

_"God, please hear me. I'm not even sure why I'm doing this, but here we go. I don't ask for much, you know that, but I'm asking now. I'm sure Daniel believes I'm coming for him, let him be patient and keep the faith. But I know Markus is going to run his mouth -- he's a smarter version of me, I think, and that's going to get him into trouble. Especially if a man like Frank Simmons is in charge, they're gonna hurt him when he won't do what they want. If Markus really has to stay alive to keep this world on the right track, then he's gonna need your help. Please. Just help him hold on, until we get there. Thank you. Amen."_

Prayer said, he didn't even feel that silly for having done it, despite the lack of answer. He rolled over, glad for the thin pad between his bones and the ground, and finally dropped off into sleep.

\---+---

Daniel thought it was past dinnertime, going by the rumbling in his stomach. However the lights stayed on. Was this their torture technique? Not to feed them or let them sleep. Screw with their body clocks so they'll always wonder when it was night. If he were still wearing his watch he'd know since it was set on military time. But when they'd been captured, everything of value had been taken. Good thing he'd left most of his stuff in the pack at the Mountain. But he did regret the confiscation of his chocolate bar.

Markus had woken twice that afternoon, staying alert a little longer each time, but he could barely move. He hadn't admitted that he hurt too, but Daniel read the signs in the clenched jaw and lines of stress around his eyes when he was awake. But he was sleeping now, and Daniel sat on the floor, occupying himself with mentally conjugating the verb form "to sleep" in as many languages as he could.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the door and a team of guards entered. "Come with us," they ordered him.

Daniel didn't want to leave Markus, but the guards weren't giving him much choice. Daniel hoped he wouldn't wake up while Daniel was gone, and get distressed over his absence. With a last look at his companion, he left the cell.

The guards brought him to an office marked with a familiar name, "Colonel Frank Simmons", and Daniel's mouth curled in automatic disgust. Simmons had been a bastard back home, and obviously he was here as well. No wonder Valhalla Sector was such a venal place, when men like Simmons were in charge of it.

Daniel inhaled a nervous breath, wondering if it was his turn to be interrogated.

The door opened and he went in. He felt a little sick, seeing that smug face on the other side of the desk and had the moment's fierce desire to tell Simmons that his counterpart had been blown up in space, infested by a Goa'uld. Not for the first time, Daniel wished he'd been around to see it.

"Come in," Simmons invited, with a smile that didn't reach his predatory eyes. "Sit down. Daniel, isn't it?"

Daniel realized something very useful-- he knew Simmons, but Simmons didn't know him. He had no idea who Daniel was, or what Daniel was capable of. It was like Jack had said once, trying to explain to Daniel about his undercover mission to find Makepeace and the other NID traitors at the SGC: people generally saw what they expected to see, and playing to that expectation was easy if you knew how to exploit it. At the time, Daniel had been hurt by Jack's willingness to exploit his knowledge of Daniel, but now Daniel understood.

So he returned Simmons' smile as he took the chair. "Yes. I'm Daniel Jackson."

He saw the flicker of surprise on Simmons' face, over his politeness, and was hard pressed not to smile more.

"I'm Colonel Simmons," he introduced. "I'm amazed, Daniel -- I thought I'd have to face some anger over your friend's … health."

Daniel shrugged a little. "He's not my friend."

"Really?" Simmons leaned back in his chair and regarded Daniel suspiciously. "My report on you says that you were acting as a bodyguard for Markus."

Daniel snorted dismissively. "Hostage is more like it. I didn't have a weapon, as I'm sure your report also says. No, I was brought along to make sure my friends back at the mountain behave. I actually had a guard of my own, but he ran off when the meeting got attacked."

Which was sort of true, though Daniel inwardly winced at his characterization of Kurdy. He didn't blame Kurdy for leaving him and Markus in the middle of the field -- there wasn't much he could have done anyway. Hopefully Kurdy was okay.

"Tell me about your friends, Daniel."

Daniel opened his mouth as if to answer, but then closed it again and gave Simmons a considering look. "That depends on what you can give me in trade."

Simmons raised his brows in surprise. "That's very bold, don't you think? Considering you know what I do to people who don't answer my questions."

"I don't think my request is unreasonable. I want protection from Thunder Mountain," he demanded. "They're a pack of wild dogs and I don't want to be anywhere close when they find out I turned on them."

"That's all?"

"Well, I'd like to get my friends out, but that seems like a lot to ask." Daniel waited, watching while Simmons mulled it over. He didn't want to ask for something too much, but from what Jeremiah and Kurdy had told him, no one from the Outside would do something for free.

"I'll consider it," Simmons said. "But I'd like a gesture of good faith from you. Just to make sure you're not, ah, telling me stories to get on my good side." He had a little grin, meant in a joking way to suggest that he had no good side. It reminded Daniel of a barracuda. "His" Simmons had been an arrogant ass, but not to this level. Daniel wasn't sure a Goa'uld would change him at all. "Let's hear about your friends. We'll get to what you can tell me about Thunder Mountain later."

"Not much to tell," Daniel shrugged. Inside though, he was exultant. Simmons was following the bread crumbs perfectly. "We're all survivors and we banded together awhile ago for safety. It's tough out there, if you're alone. We came to Thunder Mountain because we heard it might be a place of refuge." He mimed quotation marks around 'refuge' and rolled his eyes for good measure. "Our mistake. It's another cult. I can't blame them, I guess -- they didn't have anyone to discipline them, no role models or anything, but God forbid you should have an opinion that Markus doesn't tell you to have."

Simmons nodded -- apparently this information came as no great surprise to him. He folded his hands on the desk. "So I've heard. Is one of your friends named O'Neill?"

Daniel couldn't help his surprise. Simmons could only know that from someone within the mountain, so it confirmed there was another spy. But he knew how to handle this problem. "That's right, John O'Neil. He used to be in the Air Force. You might be able to look him up, if you still have files. That's with one L -- he tells stories of another guy with a similar name, but a total joker."

_Sorry, Jack,_ he thought, knowing Jack was not going to be pleased to be known as the "other" Colonel O'Neil. _But I've got to rehabilitate "Major O'Neill" or you're never going to be able to get in here, except in chains._

"I think I know who you mean," Simmons said, and watched him closely. "I'll certainly look into it."

Daniel smiled, unconcerned while Simmons looked for signs of deception. But of course, it happened to be true -- there had been a John O'Neil in the Air Force at the same time as Jack. According to Jack they were nothing alike, but it sure made for a useful case of mistaken identity.

Daniel's plan depended on Simmons not knowing the full details of the Stargate and the people who had come through it. If he did, he was the one playing Daniel, and not the other way around.

"I was told," Simmons said, "that you entered the mountain through some kind of ring."

Daniel frowned in puzzlement. "No," he responded. "I don't know what you mean by ring. We met a guy in a town nearby and he took us up there. They had a big door and we walked in." Daniel shrugged his shoulders for effect.

Simmons stared at him, probing whether he was lying. "Is there some kind of metal ring in the mountain?"

Daniel pretended to think about it and contributed doubtfully, "There's a big ring in the cafeteria that's part of the fountain. I thought it was stone, but it could be bronze or something. Is that what you mean?"

Simmons knuckled his forehead with a groan. "I'm going to kill that boy," he muttered.

Daniel couldn't help a little smile. Mission accomplished. But muddying the waters a little more couldn't hurt. "Some people were really afraid of us. They'd never seen old people before, and there was some panic and confusion," Daniel said, trying to sound helpful.

Simmons' eyes narrowed, and Daniel wondered if he'd gone too far. But with a snap of his fingers he called the guards forward. "We'll talk again," he told Daniel, "when I don't have a massive screw-up to fix."

Daniel was taken back to the cell to find Doctor Fukizaki inside, kneeling beside Markus who appeared to still be asleep. He looked up briefly, gave Daniel a close look, and said, with a touch of dry humor, "You look well for visiting Simmons."

"Yeah, he's such a charming guy," Daniel said. "So, how's he doing?" he asked with a nod toward Markus.

Fukizaki slipped the stethoscope back into his pocket and stood. "Better. His vital signs are stable. Everything should be fine, but I'll leave instructions with the guard posted outside to fetch me if he needs something."

"Thank you. It's nice to find some kindness in this place," Daniel said.

Fukizaki shook his head once. "I only wish it was kindness, Daniel. Unfortunately, I fear it is necessity." He stepped closer to Daniel and lowered his voice, with a deliberate glance at the camera mounted on the outside wall and pointed into the cell. "It stopped working long ago. But beware of the guards listening."

Fukizaki waited for Daniel to nod his understanding, and then called for the guard to let him out. He glanced back at Markus, with a worried look. Then his gaze met Daniel. "Take care of yourselves. I'll be back tomorrow."

Daniel watched him go and then settled back into his spot on the floor, with his back to the wall near the cot. He hoped the doctor was telling the truth, otherwise his pretense of not being Markus' friend was likely over before it began. In any case, he'd trust for now, since the doctor seemed truly concerned. Daniel drew up his knees and closed his eyes.

A sudden memory hit: white light and Jack's face, lined and pale with suffering, and the echo of his voice yelling Daniel's name.

Daniel's eyes shot open.

"Daniel?" Markus was calling his name in a hoarse voice, and then he turned on the cot, raising up on one elbow to look.

"I'm here," Daniel scooted into view and helped him sit up against the wall. He held out the water cup again. "How are you feeling?"

"Not terrible," Markus answered after drinking. He had his hands folded around the cup, and was looking down. Daniel followed his gaze to see that the water within had baby whitecaps from the cup's tremors. Finally he gave up trying to stop them and put the cup down beside him.

"So on a scale of one to ten?" Daniel asked, remember numerous times Janet had asked him the same question.

"About a thousand times better than this morning," Markus answered. "But negative two from this time yesterday." He leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes, brow furrowed as if he had a headache.

Daniel smiled ruefully. "I guess I should expect answers like that from someone who was published in a peer-reviewed journal before he could drive."

"That's not saying much. I still can't drive," Markus admitted, a ghost of a smile flitting across his lips.

"You can't drive?" Daniel asked, astonished. He expected Teal'c not to be able to drive a car, but not Markus.

"I didn't learn before the Big Death, and afterward," he shrugged, grimacing at the movement afterward, "well, there wasn't much reason. Or time."

"Good thing you didn't have to take the wheel on our way here." Daniel chuckled. "And here Kurdy thought you were just being arrogant about it."

"Kurdy." Markus let out a soft breath. "I hope he's doing okay. Elizabeth's had enough grief in her life."

Daniel's good humor died away at the reminder that Kurdy had been hit during the attack, and they had no idea if he was still alive. "I'm sure he's fine. And she's with him."

"And Theo." Markus shifted against the wall, trying to find a more comfortable position. "I bet she's making her captors very sorry they took her right now."

Daniel remembered the small woman with the giant attitude and had to smile. "I'm sure she is."

Suddenly Markus crumpled over, and Daniel dashed forward to ease him down flat. "Come on; you look done in. Lie down. We don't have to do anything, so you might as well take advantage of it. And then, while you're resting I'll tell you the story of _**my**_ encounter with Simmons."

\---+---

Theo couldn't stand sitting around any longer. There had to be a way to get out of this cage. If getting tortured or questioned by the leaders of this town was the only way, she had to make that happen. But first she prowled the cage, listening in on others' conversations, hoping for inspiration. Most were griping about being uncomfortable, or about what the ones "at home" were thinking, which was annoying, but then she overheard something that really pissed her off.

"We're all going to die," one insipid bitch moaned.

"I bet Markus works for Valhalla Sector and this was their way of rounding up all the leaders," the girl next to her suggested.

"Really?" the first exclaimed with big, wide eyes. She reminded Theo a bit of Erin in looks, but with bigger tits and clearly none of Erin's brains. "You think Markus betrayed us?" she questioned in a loud, shocked voice that managed to get the attention of quite a few people around her.

"Sure, Susan," the other one said with a shrug. "The only thing that makes sense is that it was a trap."

Susan seemed to think about that very hard for a moment. "So he set everyone up?"

Theo could barely believe what she was hearing. Markus had put his ass on the line to help everyone and now he was some sort of evil mastermind? Hadn't they heard a word he'd said?

Theo made sure her voice carried to everyone who might've heard them. "If you've got anything up there inside your head, why don't you try using it? Did they take him off in a helicopter in chains and at gunpoint because he's their _**friend**_? 'Course not. They hate him up there at Valhalla, because he's trying to make something of this pitiful country, maybe not great, but a place where we don't have to be afraid all the time." She gestured toward the guards walking the perimeter of the cage. "See those guys? All they know is givin' orders and killin' those who don't follow them, and they're waiting for the order to shoot us all. At least Markus tried, and for that, he's probably getting his ass kicked right now. You ain't worthy of his thoughts," she spat as she strode away from poisonous gossipy bitches. She knew their kind, the ones who had to find the evil in everyone, just to make themselves feel superior.

She wondered with a flicker of humor what Markus would have said of them. He was a dreamer; one who saw the good in people no matter their background. Even in her. Before meeting him, _**she**_ had sneered at the thought that there was anything as weak as "goodness" in her own self. But then he had invited her to the Mountain, and somehow, she still didn't know how, he had found the hopeful girl she had been long ago.

She wanted to break out of this hole and go rescue him. Kurdy was her best hope. Theo knew that Sweetpea Lizzy was not the delicate flower she looked like, but that wasn't saying much. However, Kurdy knew how to handle himself in a fight, which was a big plus. In any case, their loyalty to Markus was absolute. Jo was a wildcard. Theo had no idea what the other woman's true agenda was. Her instincts told her that Jo was not a spy for Valhalla, but the other woman was also worming information about Thunder Mountain from them, which made Theo suspicious. At least for now, she seemed to be on their side. And Theo bet Jo could handle herself in any situation.

Two men were bent close together, talking. Theo sidled up to them hoping for a tidbit of their conversation. One had blond curly hair, and a very nice fleece-lined tan jacket. The other was dark, short curls, and a really cute smile. His leather coat was just begging for her to touch it.

"There's no way out," the white guy complained.

"If all of us jumped the guards, at least some would get free."

"Maybe when they feed us again --" they stopped abruptly as they noticed her eavesdropping.

Pleased that she'd found two with some spine, she decided to rein them back from idiot plans and offer an alternative. "There's going to be a rescue attempt. Just stay alert. Our time will come," she told them quietly.

"How do you know?" the white dude asked.

"Markus didn't have everyone at the meeting. They know where we are and when they come, we'll know. Wait for it."

The two boys exchanged a glance at her words and nodded. They looked relieved that _**someone**_ knew what was going on, and Theo felt pleased with herself as she moved away.

She even believed what she had told them. At night it had been hard to know their direction, crammed into the truck, but the sun rose straight against the back flap of the truck, making the canvas glow. They'd gone west. Home sweet home. Yep, she bet they were in her own back yard. The only thing she wasn't sure of was whether Markus' people knew it yet, or how long it would take them to figure it out. But one thing was certain -- Thunder Mountain was the biggest, best organized place she'd ever seen, and they'd spare no effort to find their missing leader and friends.

She went back to her little corner and settled down. Sleep was important. When they did make a break for it, she had to be rested enough to put up a decent fight.

\---+---

The drive back to Cheyenne was uneventful. Sam let Erin and Jeremiah do the driving and she slept through most of it, knowing she'd have work to do once they arrived. Erin ordered Jeremiah off to bed, and the two women went downstairs to grab some food.

Sarah gave Erin and Sam a status report over dinner. Luckily nothing overt had happened in the last twelve hours. Sarah told Sam that Major O'Neill was currently in his room sleeping. He had been very accommodating, but hadn't found anything. Sam shook her head in disbelief and gave a little chuckle when Sarah said accommodating -- that was one adjective she never connected with **Colonel** O'Neill. Perhaps, Major O'Neill was a little bit different.

Before heading off to bed, Erin gave Sam her marching orders to improve base security, particularly the computer system and communications access. Resigning herself to a long night, and glad she'd slept in the car, Sam went up to the NORAD section to access the computers.

The first thing she did was to change all the mainframe codes, and then password protected her changes. She picked Selmak as the password, since no one would ever be able to guess that one. Now the spy would not be able to open the doors if it was decided to lock down the base. Then she went through the essential systems and make sure those hadn't been modified in any significant way, looking for programs to cause the ventilation, water, or power to fail. There was no trace. This told her something about the identity of the spy -- he or she was not a computer hacker. Most likely the person was placed here either to supplement Lee's intel or as a sleeper, activated only at Lee's loss. But that didn't mean there wasn't a plan to damage the base infrastructure, just not one through the computer.

Lastly, she set up a new access code for the communication system. External communication was only possible through the comm room, thanks to a previous restriction Markus has put in place. But once inside the room, the system was wide open. Sam wanted to cut that off. The sleeper might be getting desperate to communicate with his superiors, and he'd already killed once.

With security taken care of, she could now concentrate on the programs to use the gate, if they were ever able to acquire some naquadah. They'd come so close to getting it too... Willing herself not to think of what-ifs, she began writing the code. This was going to be long and arduous task, because not only did she have to configure the interface for the generator, but also the mathematical equations to calculate the stellar drift. She had done this before in her reality, she just had to hope things were basically the same here.


	18. Chapter 18

**March 22**

Jeremiah felt the eerie, glowing eyes bore into his soul. He wanted to turn away -- to run away -- but his body wasn't listening. His feet were stuck to the ground, almost too heavy to lift. However, part of his mind was mesmerized by the alien in front of him; he wanted to bask in the affection of his god. No! That wasn't right -- he needed to flee!

"You will worship me!" it commanded

Jeremiah felt powerless under the onslaught, wanting to defy, but compelled to submit. His brain struggled, his mouth moved to form the word, to reject what he was being forced to accept. He fought the oppressive weight upon his will until something cracked.

"No!" he screamed, as his body jackknifed in bed. His breathing was ragged as he fought against the fear that enveloped him. His eyes darted from object to object, recognizing his room -- the top bunk which was his, the bottom, Kurdy's, the lamp, and then the dresser piled with his dirty clothes. Yes, he was safe in Thunder Mountain. Seth was not standing before him. Seth was not demanding to be worshiped by him. Seth was not there.

Not yet.

Jeremiah shuddered. Lying back down, he pulled his covers tight around him and tried closing his eyes, but he knew sleep was impossible now.

Flinging the covers off, he jumped out of bed and got dressed. He needed to be around people. He couldn't just sit around -- he had to _**do**_ something. Erin would find him a mission -- anything, as long as it didn't have to do with aliens with a god complex.

Jeremiah practically ran to the cafeteria. There were a few people, but it was still very early. Andrew was sitting alone, sipping something hot and toying with something on a plate, looking tired and worried. At least this was someone he could talk to. Andrew was on the council and knew everything that was going on, although they didn't know each other well.

"Hi," Jeremiah muttered, sitting down across from him.

"Good morning. Get back last night?" Andrew asked, looking intently at him. Jeremiah grunted in the affirmative. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Nope." The answer was really yes, Sam had found it and then Jeremiah had given it away to the bad guy. But he wasn't going to tell that part. "It was a fucking disaster. Any closer to finding the killer?" Jeremiah asked, hoping for a change of topic.

"Not really. Jack is busy on the case, though."

"Jack? But I thought--" then he remembered. Two Jacks. One here, the other gone. "Right."

"There he is," Andrew stood up. "Care to join us?" he asked, motioning to the seat next to Jeremiah.

Jeremiah turned to look at the other O'Neill for the first time. He blinked. How could anyone confuse them? This one was not as self-assured. His body language spoke of wariness and confusion.

This Jack knew his father. Jeremiah accused, "So, you're from Valhalla Sector."

And wonder of wonders, the man responded with a, "Yes." His eyes were narrowed with suspicion. "Why?"

"Do you know Devon Samuels?"

"Why do you want to know?" Then Jack's eyes widened in shock. "You're Jeremiah?" he asked incredulously.

"You know me?" He glanced across the table. "Hey Andrew, I'm famous."

"Try infamous," Jack countered. "I think General Waverly would give a year's pay bonus to anyone who brings you in."

"Tempted?" Jeremiah asked.

"I'd rather see you dead than in Waverly's hands."

"Nice to be popular," Jeremiah joked, even though a shiver crept through him at the blunt declaration. He changed the subject. "So, you're helping to find Kristen's killer? What have you discovered so far?"

He shook his head in disgust and slid onto the bench next to Jeremiah. "Not much. The killer is male, white, brown hair, tallish. Maybe. Charlie saw something on a camera feed of someone leaving during Markus' goodbye speech. All we could see is a back of the head, but it's something."

Jeremiah was going to comment that he was glad he had an alibi, but caught sight of Sam entering the cafeteria. She was still wearing the same clothes they'd driven home in. He stood as she walked close. "You didn't go to bed?" he asked with surprise. "What have you been doing?"

"Computer stuff. Morning, Andrew." She smiled as she turned to look at Jack. "Hello, I'm Sam Carter," she said softly as she took a seat across from him. "Best call me Carter, since that's what you usually do. And you'll have to excuse me if I forget and call you sir. It's kind of a habit."

He smiled back. "You can call me sir; I'd kinda like that. But my name is Jack."

Her smile widened. Jeremiah thought she looked ridiculous, but maybe meeting the double of your boss and have him not be your boss was liberating. He'd never had a boss so he wouldn't know. But then she sat down, and the smile slipped away as she ran her fingers through her hair.

"I'd die for some coffee," Sam asked, tiredly. "Is there any made?"

Jeremiah wanted to remark snidely that the coffee import business didn't exist after the Big Death, which was only taking out his bad mood on her. He knew it wasn't fair; she had gone through the same hell as him. Maybe that was why she hadn't gone to bed. Jeremiah kept silent, letting Andrew answer.

"You'd be better off getting some breakfast," Andrew suggested.

Jack sniggered. "We don't have a lot at Valhalla either and what we've got is reserved for the brass. 'Til yesterday, I hadn't any in a _**long**_ time."

"Not high up in their food chain, huh?" Jeremiah asked.

"Not even a link," Jack agreed. "Very expendable."

They all went up to get a tray and some food. Erin entered the cafeteria just as Jeremiah finished. She caught his attention and motioned him over. Making his excuses, he got up and joined her in the hall. "What's up?"

"We need to talk. Come upstairs."

It felt a bit strange for Jeremiah to go into Markus' office, like he and Erin were going to be busted any second by Markus coming in. If it was strange for him, how much stranger was it for Erin? She had several more years of thinking of Markus as the room's owner. Yet her face gave nothing away as she sat at the table, and waved him into the opposite chair.

"Okay. Tell me about your trip."

He really, really didn't want to talk about this. "We didn't get it."

"Jeremiah," she warned. "Be candid with me."

"Didn't Sam tell you?"

"No, she's been busy, and besides, I'm asking you. You're one of ours, she's not. I want to know what you think," she requested, then relented, her voice softening. "Come on, I can tell something bad happened. Tell me."

He nodded reluctantly and tapped his fingers on the tabletop, before finally speaking without looking at her. "There's some strange shit going on there. It freaked me out."

"You? Like what?" she asked startled.

"This alien they were looking for, Seth, well, I believe he really is an alien. He's got this drug that makes you worship him, treat him like a god. I know 'cuz he zapped me with it and I would have killed Sam and Jack to get back to him." He took a breath and then confessed, not able to look at her, "I almost raped Sam. I couldn't control myself. I wanted -- It was awful," his voice shook.

Erin blanched. "I'm sorry."

"She stopped me. I couldn't. I knew it would please him." He swallowed, wishing he had something to drink. "He's breeding an army. His religion's based around sex -- the women and girls get passed around every night, hoping to get pregnant. The men are in training, with guns and military exercises."

He glanced up to see her frowning. "I take it you don't think they're only defending themselves?" she asked.

"No, Jack says Seth and those like him want to take over the world. Seth's still in the planning stages, but he can live basically forever. He's got time. He's also got weapons -- I didn't see much of it, but some of the men there implied some heavy duty stuff."

She sighed. "I'm not surprised. There are a lot of old bases around there to scavenge, especially if he cleaned them out right after the Big Death." She grabbed one of the pens off the table and started absently to chew on the cap. "Other than this drug, did you see anything else you might consider to be alien?"

"Ring transport. It's like an elevator, but it takes you from one place to another through concrete, dirt and wood. I was in one and it feels weird. After the drug, Jack used that fancy gun of theirs, the one that looks like a toy and zapped me. It made the drug stop working. Sam says it has to do with electrical current." He stopped to think. "There wasn't anything in the buildings, but Seth himself, well… his eyes glowed and his voice, well, it didn't sound right. I don't know how to explain it. He looked human, but he wasn't."

"Thank you," Erin paused, then added, "Do you trust Sam?"

Jeremiah didn't understand. "Trust her? She saved my life."

"Trust her with Thunder Mountain. Markus gave her complete access to our computers, and I have to say it makes me very nervous."

"Yes, I do trust her. She wants to get home. And like she said, if Valhalla Sector takes this place, that's not gonna happen. I believe she wants to help."

Erin smiled, looking relieved. "Thanks. I've got a meeting with the council, and I need to reassure Kate and Raymond about Sam. Tell her and Jack I want to meet with them after lunch."

"And me?" Jeremiah asked. He needed to know what she had in mind.

"And you," she agreed.

\---+---

Kurdy woke sore and a little chilled. His arm was throbbing and when he went to look at it, noticed that it was now very tender and warm.

"It's become infected," Jo-Lynn told him. "Let me help to clean it."

Kurdy tried to stand up, but the floor tilted and she had to help him lie back down. Carefully she unwrapped the makeshift bandage and gasped when she saw the puffy redness.

There was a commotion at the other end of the cage. Most of the prisoners were grouped there and the guards were tossing fruit over the fence. Theo was in the thick of it grasping for her share, not shy about using her elbows and knees. The sight made Kurdy smile, then wince as Jo used some of their water from last night to bathe the pus away. Elizabeth said something, but he couldn't hear what she was saying, the roaring in his ears was too loud.

Then Jo was there with one of the soldiers, who grabbed his arm and the pain sent Kurdy over the edge to oblivion.

\---+---

By morning, Markus was feeling more like himself. He was still tired and he ached everywhere, but he could sit up and walk if he really needed to. His dreams had been no more troubled than usual, which surprised him, but he flinched when the door at the end of the corridor opened, expecting the guards to come for him.

But they were only bringing the breakfast tray. One bowl of oatmeal, a spoon, and a glass of milk. The bowl and glass were both absurdly bright plastic. The guard very carefully unlocked the little gate in the bottom of the cell door and slid the tray in.

"That's it?" Daniel demanded. "For both of us?"

"It's for you," the sergeant said roughly. "Eat it. My orders are that only you eat."

Daniel stared at him incredulously, an expression that got even more wide-eyed when the sergeant drew his gun when Daniel started to carry the bowl away. "Only you."

"Daniel, it's okay," Markus said. He didn't want Daniel to get hurt over this.

"It's _**not**_ okay! It's barbaric, is what it is." He cast a glance up to the sergeant, who seemed uncomfortable but not enough to go against his orders. Then Daniel seemed to get struck by an idea. "All right, only I get to eat. Can I give him the milk to drink?" he asked. "Please?"

The young man shifted his feet and glanced down the hall. "Hurry," he said.

"Thank you," Daniel said and brought the cup to Markus.

Markus thought briefly of refusing it, since he was feeling nauseous anyway, but caught the look in Daniel's eyes and took it. He downed it in four swallows, grimacing. He never had liked the taste of reconstituted powdered milk. "Thank you both," he said, looking at the sergeant and giving him a nod.

The sergeant looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

Daniel ate the oatmeal and slid the tray back through the slot. The sergeant re-locked it -- even though only a child could possibly slip through -- and left.

"There's one thing I've learned during my various times in captivity," Daniel told him quietly, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "You have to keep up your strength, because your chance to get out _**will come**_, and you need to be ready for it."

Markus was really not in the mood for a pep talk. The milk was sitting like a brick in his stomach, and his head was throbbing fiercely. He put his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Do me a favor, Daniel. You watch for our chance. When it comes, let me know."

"Are you feeling all right?" Daniel asked in concern.

"Just tired." But he felt like he had barely closed his eyes, when the outer door opened again. His eyes flew open and he twitched, a memory of yesterday's pain rushing through him.

There were several pairs of boots approaching. That probably meant Simmons. He was not going to huddle here like a coward. Straightening, he meant to stand, but Daniel shook his head once. "You _**receive**_ him," he whispered and got to his feet. At first Markus had no idea what he meant, but then realized that there was a certain power to being the only one sitting down, like an emperor granting an audience.

Daniel emphasized the setting by standing at the end of the cot.

Simmons came into view, flanked by two of his personal guards. Markus saw him, and his heart seemed to freeze for an instant. _I am not afraid of you_, he told himself, knowing it was a lie. He had to hold on to the bottom hem of his jacket to keep his hands from shaking.

Simmons' eyebrows went up in surprise -- or at least pretended surprise when he saw the two men in the cell. "Well, I see Gordon's been busy salving his conscience again. It must be such a burden on him. Good morning, Daniel."

Markus glanced at his cell companion sharply at the friendly greeting. Daniel had told him his plan last night, but today, actually seeing it in motion, it still sent a thread of unease down his back.

Simmons chuckled. "So, Markus, are you ready to tell me what I want to know? Or," he sighed, "do we have to dance again?"

"What was the question again?" Markus retorted. "Oh right, betray my family, my friends, and the people who trusted me, all to save my own skin. That may be how things work here, but not in _**my**_ bunker. So you and your buddies can shove all your questions up your ass, because I'm not telling you squat."

Simmons slowly applauded in mockery. "Bravo. You _**are**_ feeling better, aren't you? I suppose Daniel's presence is inspiring you to be bold." He let out a sigh. "Well, it's always two steps forward, one step back. But we'll get there eventually." He pointed into the cell. "Take him. And if he resists, shoot Daniel. I don't need him."

Markus got to his feet, cold and leaden inside. He knew he should've expected that Simmons would find a way to use Daniel against him. But knowing that didn't help.

"Markus, don't," Daniel advised softly. "Don't worry about me. I've been here before."

That might be true, but he was here because Markus had brought him here. Therefore it was his responsibility to make sure he came out of it okay. He took off his jacket and laid it on the cot. Then he held out his hands for the guards to snap the cuffs on and followed passively out

They went to a different room this time. Larger, but emptier. There was one mirrored glass window, florescent ceiling lights hanging from an open pipework ceiling, and a metal grate for the floor. The walls were painted a dull gray. And that was it.

Only one guard remained with him, a hefty linebacker type with large muscles from weightlifting, and a shaved head. A long scar ran along his pallid skin of his cheek to his jaw, pulling his lip to the side a little in a permanent sneer.

Simmons hadn't come in with them, and Markus was fairly sure he was in the room behind the window.

There was a hook hanging from a chain that Markus didn't notice until the guard yanked his cuffs up and over the hook, putting his arms over his head. Luckily he was tall, so he could stay flat-footed, but nevertheless his heart sank. He knew what this was: Markus the Amazing Human Punching Bag.

Simmons explained anyway, his voice coming through several speakers set in all four corners. "John is going to help me today. It's very simple -- I ask a question. You answer it. If you refuse or if you lie, he will hit you. I've instructed him not to hit you in the head -- I wouldn't want to damage a national treasure."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Markus said dryly.

Simmons sounded amused. "Well, no one can say you don't have balls, Markus. But you and I both know it's empty bravado. You will tell me. If I have to, I'll break you to get what I want, and that would really be a shame. I would much rather have you on my side."

"Your side?" he repeated, disbelieving. "I will _**never**_ be on your side."

"You're probably right," Simmons agreed. "You seem determined to do this the hard way. I don't think it's the smart thing to do, but --"

"God, would you shut up already?" Markus interrupted. "To think some people believe _**I'm**_ in love with the sound of my own voice."

It was, he realized, surprisingly liberating to be able to say whatever nasty, provoking thing was in his head. Because Simmons was right -- Markus would speak eventually. He believed he could hold out for a little while, but in the end, fear would eat him alive. Yesterday he had decided what he had to do, and this morning's thought hadn't changed his mind. It was all a question of balancing equations -- to the left, the value of his continued survival, and to the right, the value of making sure he didn't talk about Meaghan or the meeting. There was really no contest.

"Let's start with something easy then," Simmons said. "Why did you come to St. Louis?"

Markus smiled a little. "I heard they had the best Easter Egg hunt. I love going on egg--"

John's fist plowed into his stomach, driving all the air out of his lungs. He lost his footing, so he just hung there a moment, gasping for breath and trying not to throw up.

"John, feel free to use your baton," Simmons invited. "I think Markus needs a little help controlling his mouth today."

John smiled eagerly. "Yes, sir." He took a black rod off the little ledge under the window. It was about eighteen inches long and an inch in diameter. He slapped it into the palm of his hand as a demonstration.

Markus couldn't help a nervous swallow. But he reminded himself of the plan and forced a little smirk. "Some people need help overcoming their shortcomings."

That got him hit, without a question even being asked. It struck along his lower ribs, a sudden stinging pain that flared into a burning throb. It felt a lot like when he'd been shot.

Again and again. He continued the pattern several more times, giving smartass answers to Simmons' questions, even when he could barely breathe, and getting hit in return, mostly on the torso but one sharp one to his leg was going to leave a deep bruise that would hurt more tomorrow. It got harder to keep focused. His mind kept wanting to fixate on the baton, as if by willpower alone he could keep it away.

He didn't even realize he was biting his lower lip to stop himself from crying out, until he bit through it when the baton hit his lower back. His knees gave out and tears pricked his eyes with the flare of agony. The truly scary part was that Markus knew John was not using full force, and Markus was going to have to make him.

Before he lost his nerve, he climbed to his feet and spat out the blood in his mouth on the floor. He smirked at John. "Nice scar," he taunted, wishing his voice wasn't so raspy. "That's why I don't shave my head."

"Shut up."

"Bet the girls really like it."

Through the speakers, Simmons warned, "John…"

In that moment of distraction, when John glanced at the window, Markus moved. His arms were restrained, but his feet weren't. Hoping he still had some strength left, he kicked as hard as he could, aiming for John's groin. Unfortunately John realized something was wrong and moved, so the foot landed on his thigh.

But the reaction was all that he could have wished. John's arm with the baton whistled through the air like a baseball player at bat and drove deep into Markus' lower left ribs.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. His brain and heart froze in shock - but the numbness lasted only a millisecond. His chest was on fire. A low mewling sound was in his ears, along with the sudden rushing of blood.

His chest moved, trying to breathe again and he coughed a little -- a knife of pain stabbed and twisted between his ribs. He held his breath and after a moment, the storm settled to something more tolerable. Localized throbbing on his left side spiked with a slow cautious breath. But another, deeper cough to clear the blood from his throat, felt like he was being torn open.

"Oh god, oh god," he whispered in a litany trying to get a hold on himself, but every time he took a breath or coughed, the hot spears were waiting for him. Bad, it was bad. At least a broken rib, maybe two. But he hurt too much to celebrate the success of his plan.

He cautiously opened his eyes, realizing there were tears on his cheeks. He was hanging from his cuffs, and even though he knew his ribs might hurt less if there was less pressure on them, he couldn't move.

"Have I finally gotten your attention, Markus?" Simmons' voice seemed everywhere, in his daze, like the voice of the devil himself.

John moved into his line of sight, and Markus shied back from the baton in his hand. "No," he whispered, the plea springing to his lips. "No more…"

When he realized what he had said, the cold fear and panic that poured down his spine seemed to extinguish some of the fire. His mind came back from the place where it had fled. He couldn't let this happen. If only he would pass out or have a little time to get it together… but his body was reacting on its own.

No. He couldn't let it. He couldn't give in. Couldn't falter now. Couldn't betray who he was or what he believed in. Not for this.

"If you don't want any more," Simmons advised coldly, "I advise you to answer my questions. John can keep this up all day. Now, let's go back to question number one: What were you doing in St. Louis?"

Markus forced himself to his feet, swaying in the cuffs until he found his balance. His ribs did feel better without his weight stretching them, settling into a sharp nauseating throb. He raised his head and looked at the mirror, distracted for a moment by the sight of blood on his chin from his lip.

Flatly, he answered, "Looking for the Easter Bunny."

Simmons sighed. "John…"

When Markus could speak again, his voice wasn't more than a harsh whisper. But it was with some sense of triumph that he realized he could talk at all. "You realize… the more you do to me, the more I know… I'm right." He closed his eyes for a moment to gather strength and then looked toward the glass window. "There's no place for people. Like you. In my world. You're the past. Just an echo, of what was…"

For a moment, there was silence, and Markus wondered if his words had gotten to Simmons finally. When the colonel spoke, it was to John. "You have five minutes to do whatever you want," he ordered. "Nothing permanent. I'll be in my office for your report after you have him taken back to his cell."

"Understood, sir." He waited until they both could hear the outer door open, as Simmons left. Then he turned, and the scar made his grin that much more revolting. "Just you and me now. Let's see if I can't learn you some respect in five minutes."

"Teach," Markus couldn't help the correction. It was one of those artifacts from years ago, when he had been only one of a few who taught the little ones in the mountain, and came as automatically as breathing. "You teach something to others --"

The only response was another strike with the baton. And another, and more in rapid succession.

Those were the longest five minutes of his life. But finally they were done and with a scowl, John put the baton back on the shelf. Markus was feeling a little bit proud of himself that he had lasted, even though he mostly wished he wasn't awake at all.

He nearly got his wish, when John took his arms down. The change of position sparked a blaze of agony from his shoulders to deep in his chest. With a wordless cry, he collapsed, legs and knees suddenly not there. He slid right out of the guard's grip and fell to the hard floor.

The impact sent a wave of fire and darkness crashing through him, but the wave receded leaving him still aware of every breath that came with daggers and every beat of his heart that found nauseating echo across his skin.

He curled up, praying that the darkness would come take him away. But no one was listening.

\---+---

The guards brought Markus back, supported between them. Daniel saw the blood on his chin and the mottled skin, red and white marks, that indicated rising welts and developing bruises, and he shut his eyes to try to push away the anger. Getting angry at the guards wasn't going to help anyone. When he looked again, Markus seemed in better shape than yesterday -- for one thing his eyes were open and he was trying to walk, if in an obviously halting, pained fashion.

"Get back," one of the guards snapped, and Daniel moved to the far wall with quick compliance.

The door opened and they left Markus standing in the middle of the floor. He blinked dazedly and swayed. Daniel rushed to keep him up. "Here, I've got you. It's gonna be okay."

"Daniel?" Markus looked at him and made an effort to focus.

The guards left the short hallway, closing the heavy door behind them and leaving them effectively alone.

"Yeah, it's me," Daniel assured him. "Let's get you over to the cot and get your jacket on. You feel cold." With as light a touch as he could, unsure of where Markus had been hurt, Daniel guided him to the cot. He sat down with a relieved breath, and for a few moments sat there. Daniel waited patiently, knowing he needed the rest.

But he also needed to get his jacket on. It was chilly and a little damp in this place, and the last thing Markus needed was to catch a cold.

"Here's your jacket." Daniel helped him put his right arm through the sleeve first and then brought the jacket around. "Now the left."

Markus flinched when he tried to bring his arm back, curling up in reaction to some sharp pain in his left side.

"What is it?" Daniel asked, but he thought he knew. Now that he was listening, he heard Markus' shallow breaths.

"I'm okay," Markus insisted, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, and put his arm through his sleeve in one decisive motion. His face blanched and his right hand darted across his chest. He swore, shutting his eyes tightly, and held himself motionless.

"You're 'okay'," Daniel repeated dubiously after Markus had relaxed somewhat and slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. "Sure. Whatever you say."

He zipped up Markus' jacket and helped ease him back to lie down. A moan escaped him as his back touched the cot, and he turned onto his right side, seeking a part of him that didn't hurt as much. When he seemed settled, Daniel patted Markus' shoulder once. "Try to get some rest."

Markus' hand darted out to grab his arm. "Thanks," he whispered. "You're a good friend, Daniel."

Daniel smiled, even though Markus couldn't see it with his eyes still shut. "No problem. Obviously you need a keeper. Rest."

He shifted his grip to hold Markus' wrist in his fingers and count his pulse as Janet had taught him. It was rapid, not surprisingly, and his fingers were like ice. Daniel grabbed the two blankets and tucked them around Markus.

When he was finished, and sat back on his heels to observe his handiwork, Daniel saw Markus' eyes flicker open again and find him.

"That's not resting," Daniel chided softly. "Close your eyes."

"Just checking," Markus murmured and closed his eyes again, catching his breath as he shifted position beneath the blankets.

Daniel moved closer, sitting against the frame of the cot. "I'm here. I wish there was more I could do, but I'm here."

"My father told me," Markus whispered without opening his eyes, "that no one should die alone. Sometimes just being there is the best thing you can do."

Daniel straightened, alarmed, and turned to look anxiously at the pale face. "You're not going to die, Markus. Don't even think that. We're going to get out of here. You have to believe we're going to get out of here."

Markus shook his head slightly. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters! You can't give up, not now. I know things look bleak, I know you're in pain, but I've been in worse places and there's always a way out. You can't give up and let them win."

"Not letting them win… Making a choice," Markus insisted breathlessly, now opening his eyes to look at Daniel. "Can't let them know what I know … but … can't …" All the talking did him in. He curled up on his side as a paroxysm of coughing hit, and he shook like a toy in a dog's jaws, clutching at his chest.

"Shh, just breathe," Daniel pleaded, uselessly patting Markus' shoulder. "Please, Markus, calm down and breathe…"

Markus tried to hold his breath, but that seemed to make the coughing worse, until he was gasping like a landed fish and his skin was so white it seemed bluish.

It wasn't working. Daniel ran to the front of the cell. "GUARDS!" he yelled, and yelled it again until the door opened. "Get the doctor," he shouted. "Markus can't breathe. Go now!"

He heard the reassuring sound of a quick order and running feet head away, and returned to Markus' side, just before his internal struggling would have dumped him on the floor as he rose up on his knees and an elbow.

Daniel caught him by the shoulders, and for an instant he had to resist all of Markus' weight as he strained to find air and a place away from the pain. But then, it was over.

He collapsed bonelessly to the cot, face down, his hand flopping to the floor with a painful-sounding thwack. The cell was suddenly silent and terribly still. "Markus!" Daniel kneeled beside him and reached frantically to check if he was still breathing.

The feathery feel of air across his fingers nearly made him dizzy with relief. He prodded Markus' cheek with a finger, but there was no reaction. All things considered, Daniel figured that unconscious was probably the best place for Markus to be right now, so he sat back to wait for the doctor.

Doctor Fukizaki arrived quickly, on the heels of an anxious guard.

Fukizaki's expression froze the moment he saw Markus lying on the cot. "Simmons," he hissed in clear fury. "Simmons did this."

Then his expression cleared to calm neutrality so abruptly that Daniel stepped back. Somehow it didn't seem… natural. There was only the slightest hint of anger left in those dark eyes, not the smoldering rage that Daniel would have expected after such temper. He supposed that working in this place, secretly supporting Devon's work by sabotaging his own experiments, would have made him a consummate actor.

And yet … it had seemed like a different personality had taken over.

He remembered Fukizaki's reaction yesterday to the sound of the Goa'uld tongue. The way he had looked alarmed and then approached -- perhaps to sense whether Daniel was carrying a symbiote of his own?

Could it be? Was Fukizaki a Tok'ra? A Goa'uld?

He tensed as Fukizaki entered the cell, wondering how he could possibly find out.

"What happened?" Fukizaki asked, gently turning Markus onto his back and checking his pulse, breathing, and pupils with a pen-light from his pocket.

Daniel explained what had happened and watched as Fukizaki unzipped the jacket to gently check Markus' ribs with a light pressure. Even unconscious, he flinched when Fukizaki reached the injury.

"Fractured, I think," he said. "These two. But if his lung was punctured we would know. I think his breathing is shallow because of the pain, and that causes fluid to gather and so he coughs. However, I don't like that this is happening so soon. He may already have some congestion. I'll bring him a course of antibiotics to ward off pneumonia." He zipped the jacket again and spread the blankets over Markus. "Keep him warm. Did he complain of anything else in particular?"

"He didn't even really complain about his chest," Daniel said, shaking his head.

"Ah. One of those." Fukizaki regarded Markus for a moment in silence before rousing to hand Daniel two small white pills. "For pain. Make sure he drinks water with them." He frowned and added with a grimace, "I recognize John's … 'handiwork'. Ordinarily he is not so careless. It worries me that he may have done more. So it falls on you, Daniel, to keep close watch, especially for blood in his urine which might indicate kidney damage, and to tell me. Since he probably won't."

"I will," Daniel said. He watched Fukizaki's face, wondering. He sounded like a doctor. He certainly didn't sound like a Goa'uld, with that open concern for Markus in his voice. So Daniel decided he'd take a chance.

Remembering what Sam had told him of the Tok'ra funeral rite, Daniel murmured, "_A reikh tri'ac te kheck."_ We will never surrender, not even in death.

Fukizaki's gaze snapped up to meet his, a less dramatic reaction but still enough to betray the truth. After a moment, he nodded slightly in confirmation. He was holding himself very still, and Daniel realized he was afraid of what might happen next. He had no idea who Daniel was, or who he represented, only that he had guessed that Fukizaki was a Tok'ra.

With a glance at the guard who hovered outside the locked door, staring down the corridor in utter boredom, Daniel said, "_A Tok'ra sho'neth._" We are allies of the Tok'ra.

Fukizaki nodded, for an instant looking relieved. More loudly he said, "Good. I will return in a little while to check on him." He rose to his feet, and Daniel joined him.

"Thank you."

With a glance at Markus, the Tok'ra said, "I will do what I can, Daniel."

"I understand," Daniel said. He knew what Fukizaki was really saying. Tok'ra hated to have to make the choice of exposure to save their allies who stumbled into their missions. They did what they could to help undercover as long as possible. Here, Fukizaki was doubly undercover -- hiding both his alien nature and his true loyalty. Exposing one might reveal the other, which could have implications for any other Tok'ra hiding on Earth, especially if the Goa'uld caught a whiff of it. So his reluctance to break his cover was understandable, and his help probably limited.

But still, this was good news, Daniel realized after Fukizaki left. They had an ally inside. Even an ally who couldn't do much, was better than no ally at all.

With Jack, Sam, and Teal'c -- not to mention a considerable force in Thunder Mountain eager to get their leader back -- on the outside, and a Tok'ra on the inside, the odds of escape were looking much better.

Now, if only he could convince Markus of that.

\---+---

'_We have to stop Simmons,'_ Chuan fumed inwardly as they left the brig. '_Even if we have to kill him, he must be stopped.'_

'_We cannot kill him,' _Malek reminded his host. '_The mission comes first, and killing Simmons would endanger that.'_

'_Letting Simmons kill Markus also endangers the mission,' _Chuan retorted. Malek could feel the intensity of Chuan's anger and despite his best efforts, couldn't keep from taking it as his own. '_Because what __**is**__ our mission, Malek? To keep Waverly from the virus, yes, but isn't that only because we don't want him or Simmons to conquer the Tau'ri, by using the virus or any other means?'_

'_Yes, of course, but --' _Malek attempted to reason with him, why they could not take the risk, but Chuan was having none of it.

'_That's not enough. These children need and deserve peace, security and freedom, after all they've suffered. Markus appears to be the only force on this planet who is in a position to help his people achieve it. If he dies, who might rise to take his place? Maybe no one. Isn't it better to risk a little now, instead of taking a bigger risk later that everything we have done has been for nothing?'_

Malek had to stop and put his hand against the wall, unable to continue walking when Chuan's passionate feelings were flowing through him so powerfully. In nearly one hundred years of blending, nothing -- not even the news that Heru'ur had attacked and laid waste to his homeworld -- had stirred Chuan's heart so much.

'_Yes,'_ Malek agreed. He could do nothing else but echo Chuan. '_You are right. But killing Simmons, as much as I want to, is a last resort. First, we should --' _

Another voice, somewhere outside their private conversation, interrupted, "Doctor, are you all right?"

He blinked and saw a young woman hovering in front of him. Jennifer was Lieutenant Grogan's wife. Malek believed she had neither married nor come to Valhalla willingly, and certainly he knew that her husband treated her badly. He had always tried to show her kindness and respect. "Yes, thank you, Jennifer." He hesitated, wondering how much he should say. But he thought she might be helpful. Although she was not educated, he had seen the flashes of intelligence in her brown eyes, an intelligence she carefully hid from others. He made sure to show his disgust and anger. "I just came from the brig."

She moved closer and looked up at him eagerly, murmuring, "You've seen the prisoners? You've seen… him?" Then, audible only because of symbiote-enhanced hearing, she whispered, "Markus?"

He nodded once, keeping a wary eye on the people passing by in the corridor. But he wondered suddenly, looking at the hopeful light in her eyes, how many other people secretly wanted Markus to win. No one would confide in him, being too close to the regime, but there might be more people discontented with the brass than he had thought.

'_You see?'_ Chuan asked. '_She doesn't know him, has never met him. But that doesn't matter. She knows enough.'_

Malek had to grant the point. So he answered her, with a grave expression, "Yes. I did. He was having trouble breathing from his injuries."

"Will he … be all right?" she asked tentatively.

"For now," he answered. She understood the implications immediately. Her fists tightened and she looked away, trying not to show how upset it made her. He moved closer to her and murmured, "His people will be coming for him. We must be ready to help."

Her eyes widened. Her lips moved soundlessly, repeating, "Help?"

He shushed her. "Be ready," he repeated and walked away.

Chuan was stunned. '_When you take a risk, you don't take a small one, do you? She could run straight to Lieutenant Grogan right now and tell him we intend to help Markus.'_

'_Do you think that likely?'_ Malek asked.

'_No_,' Chuan admitted. '_We know how he hurts her. But she could. That was very unlike you.'_

Malek sent him the emotional equivalent of sticking out his tongue at his host. '_Your fault. I was inspired by your emotional excess.'_

The two kept up a lively exchange, right up to the door of Waverly's office, when Chuan fell quiet. Malek took a deep breath and opened the door.

The anteroom was a small office with just a desk, phone, typewriter, computer terminal, and a few paintings on the wood-panel walls.

Cathy, Waverly's secretary, glanced up to see him. She smiled at him. "Doctor Fukizaki, this is a pleasant surprise."

"Cathy. Can General Waverly spare a few minutes for me? I need to speak with him."

She got on the phone and a few moments later, put the phone down and waved to the inner door. "Colonel West is in with him now. When he leaves, you're free to enter."

Malek did not take a chair but preferred to remain standing. When the door opened, the colonel stepped out, wearing his permanent sour face, and stalked out into the hall with barely a nod of acknowledgment. Cathy gave a little shrug and motioned him to go in.

Malek gave her a nod and entered Waverly's office. It was an ostentatious display of a massive wooden desk, plush carpeting, shelves full of statues and small paintings plundered from museums, and two large flags on either side of the general's large leather chair. It also reeked from Waverly's cigars, and Malek was always hard-pressed not to cough when he entered.

As usual, Waverly took his time about acknowledging his presence, but since he did the same whenever Waverly visited him, it was just one of the little power games that they played.

"Ah, Gordon. What brings you here this afternoon?" Waverly looked up with a genial smile, waving him to the chair opposite.

"Markus Alexander," he answered flatly. He sat down a little slouched and rested an ankle on the opposite knee, just because he knew the non-military posture irritated Waverly.

The smile disappeared from the general's face. "Yes. Frank was just in here, complaining you were becoming rather friendly with our prisoner."

Since Malek had never seen the advantage to being defensive, he launched into his objection. "I wouldn't have to be friendly, if Simmons weren't such an idiot!"

Waverly raised his brows in surprise. "Strong words, Gordon."

"I don't know what else to call how poorly he's handled Markus. In less than forty-eight hours, he's managed to torture him unconscious twice, and break two ribs. If Markus manages not to puncture a lung and die, it will be a miracle. And for this, Simmons has learned absolutely nothing. He's lost perspective."

Waverly nodded thoughtfully. "I don't want the boy to die," he said, his flat tone betraying that the decision had nothing to do with compassion. "We need his information. I can't plan an attack until I know what they've got up there in Cheyenne." He grimaced sourly. "But I'm sorely tempted to have him shot in front of the followers we're holding out west and teach them a lesson. They're becoming quite a pain in my ass."

_'West. They're out west,'_ Chuan leaped on the statement. Malek kept any reaction off their face, but he was just as pleased. It shouldn't be hard to figure out where that was and pass that information on to Lantash. Narrowing the search down to a smaller area would allow the sensors to locate Jolinar more quickly.

Waverly sighed. "So, what's your plan?"

"I want to get him to trust me," Malek explained. "What is the phrase about catching flies with honey, not vinegar? Markus is stubborn, General. A true believer. Simmons' methods will kill him long before he says anything useful."

"And you think he's going to tell you?" Waverly asked doubtfully.

"No, I'm quite sure he won't. Not at first. But if he thinks we're on the same side, won't he _**want**_ to tell me? Also, since I already know a lot about the virus, why won't he tell me the Big Death secret? If he understood it, they would already have the vaccine, wouldn't they?" Malek prompted. "So clearly the mountain needs some expertise to understand what they have. I can provide that."

Waverly nodded slowly and rubbed at his chin in deep thought. "It's going to take time."

Malek smiled. "General, we've waited fifteen years to understand the Big Death. If Markus holds the key, I think a week or two is a small price to pay. But I need Simmons to back off."

'_Come on,' _Chuan urged the general silently, as if he believed he was telepathic. '_Take the bait, take it. Mastery of the Big Death, General. What you've wanted from the day you found us.'_

Malek waited with outward patience.

Waverly glanced at his face then let out a disgruntled breath. "Simmons says you're soft. That you're swayed by pity."

"'First, do no harm,' General," Malek quoted to him. "You've known almost since the day we met that I would never deliberately inflict harm on anyone. I'm a doctor, and I will keep my oath." After all this time, he could say that, believing that it was true. He folded his arms in defiant pride. "If it makes me 'soft', so be it. But I swore another oath to conquer the Big Death, and that one I'll fulfill too, even if I'm not as ruthless about it as Simmons might want."

Waverly held up a hand. "I know, I know. This isn't the first time the two of you have disagreed over methods, and I'm sure not the last. He's too quick to resort to torture and you're too willing to sympathize. So I'll compromise -- you have three days to show some progress with Markus. If you don't have anything, he goes back to Frank."

'_Three days?'_ Chuan demanded incredulously. '_He's not going to heal in three days.'_

'_I think that's the point, my friend. Waverly knows as well as we do that Simmons is going to kill Markus, but he doesn't really care. But we're going to take it, because we need time.'_ He nodded once. "Fine. Thank you, General." He rose to his feet. "I'll not take up any more of your time."

He was at the door when Waverly warned darkly, "Gordon, be careful." Malek turned and looked at him with his eyebrows raised in inquiry. Waverly looked at him. "I've heard that Alexander can be quite persuasive. Don't lose sight of our goal."

"Of course not," Malek reassured him and left. '_We have little time and much to do.'_


	19. Chapter 19

Later that afternoon, Jack entered the conference room to find Erin, Jeremiah and Sam already seated, holding an intense conversation.

"I just don't know how you do it day after day," Jeremiah shook his head.

"There's no choice," she responded. "I refuse to let my world become enslaved. I'm an officer in the United States Air Force and it is my duty to defend my country. In our case we extend that to include the whole planet."

"It's your job to fight a whole race of people like Seth?" Jeremiah asked. "How do you remain sane? They are just so--"

"Evil," Sam finished for Jeremiah. "The Goa'uld are evil and will do anything to make you submit to their will." She cast a quick glance in Jack's direction, probably trying to see if he believed her.

Since he had no idea what she was talking about, he shrugged.

"Okay," Erin interrupted. "Enough horror stories. I'm sure your enemies are truly nasty, but right now we have to concentrate on rescuing Markus and finding that damned spy."

Sam nodded and added, "And setting up some kind of defense in case Valhalla comes knocking."

Jack thought about it. It was something Waverley might attempt. "It's a possibility," he agreed. "General Waverly wants everyone and everything that might be a threat to his authority eliminated. The resources here would also capture Simmons' attention."

"Simmons? Frank Simmons?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. You know him?" Jack asked, curious.

"The colonel's going to love this," she answered cryptically.

Jack figured it wasn't really important how she knew Simmons, and addressed himself to Erin. "Waverly already thinks this place is a threat. If he thinks he can take it, he'll attack."

"We should send him Seth's way," Jeremiah interjected. "Let them kill each other."

Sam shook her head no. "Valhalla doesn't stand a chance against him, especially without understanding how dangerous he is. We wouldn't want Seth in possession of Valhalla's resources."

Jack rolled his eyes. How could she think this Seth guy would just run over Valhalla? No cult leader, no matter how persuasive, could have the men, the weapons or the supplies to match Valhalla Sector.

Erin intervened again, to drag the conversation back on track. "If there really is a threat to us, you're right, we need an army. Jeremiah, you know the people here. Jack, you and Sam know the military. Work together and build us a force to keep us safe."

Jack winced. He was supposed to fight to preserve freedom, here was another instance where he had belonged to the wrong side. Maybe it was why he'd always been so dissatisfied with things. At least now he had a chance to correct matters. Yes, he'd help build the best defensive unit the world had ever seen.

"I'll do what I can," he said and she gave him a nod of thanks.

"You're gonna have to say something, Erin," Jeremiah told her. "Markus is missing, along with a bunch of other people from here. I've had two people ask me if they're all dead. You need to tell everyone what we know and dispel the rumors."

"Yeah, I know," Erin sighed. "I'll do it at dinner time. I need some time to compose it. Anything else?"

"Yes," Sam answered. "I've code-blocked the communication system, in case the spy manages to get in the comm room or finds another way to access it. As of last night, nothing can be sent out or received without proper authorization. I initialized four passwords. You need to keep track of who gets each one. So, when a call is made, we'll be able to tell which of the codes was used."

She slid a piece of paper across to Erin who looked at it, frowned in puzzlement, and then clutched it in her hand. "Thank you, Sam."

"Excellent job," Jack exclaimed. "Absolutely brilliant. I bet we'll have him by tonight."

"We can only hope, sir." She paused. "I mean 'Jack'."

"Old habits are hard to break," he commiserated with a smile although inwardly he was a bit unnerved by it all. It served to remind him that he was a stand-in for her Jack. "Is that all?" he asked Erin.

"I believe so," Erin responded. She glanced up at the sound of a knock on the door and Sarah came in, wanting to speak to Erin. Erin said to the others, "Thanks again. Good luck, guys."

Jack took that as their dismissal. Jeremiah seemed a bit put-out that he was excused, but followed him and Sam out.

In the corridor outside, Jack stopped and turned to confront Sam. "Okay, gimme the short version, because it's killing me. Who the hell are you and this other Jack? Where do you come from?"

She grinned at him, but not in a mocking way. "We're from a parallel universe," she explained. "Different outcomes to different choices. In my universe, there was no Big Death. You're the same man biologically as the one from my reality, but with the different outcome of his being a colonel and being stationed at Cheyenne Mountain."

He frowned, trying to figure it out. "So this other guy really is me? But he has to go back, right?"

Her smile disappeared, and she nodded. "Right. We're not meant to be able to cross into other realities, it's not natural. But we kind of... stumbled here. Now we've got to find a way back."

"You think you can? Seems ... hard."

"I think so. Although not 'til we get all the rest of this sorted," she said, with admirable confidence that faded into weariness. "It may be awhile. I hope the colonel has time."

He didn't know what to say, but luckily Jeremiah jumped in, "He's tough, Sam. He'll hang in there."

She nodded a little, but didn't seem very reassured. She tightened her mouth, and said, "Well, I've got to do what I can now. I'll see you both later." She headed down the corridor at a good clip, eager to get back to her work.

Jack and Jeremiah followed more slowly. Jack asked him, "So what is your real job around here? Erin acts like you're in a command position and you act as if it's your right to know everything…" he left the sentence hanging so Jeremiah would fill it in.

"Recon," he answered. "Markus needs information, Kurdy and I go out and get it, hoping not to get killed in the process. Plus, we're pushy," he admitted with a bit of a smile.

Jack didn't doubt that at all. "Who's Kurdy? Is he around here?'

"No," he said sharply. "Kurdy went with Markus."

"Oh. So you and Kurdy gather intel for Markus?"

"Yeah. Pretty much. And we set up some trade links," he shrugged. "There are some towns that have things they can't use or don't know how, and we try to get them together with the right people."

"And you get in exchange?" Jack wondered.

"Nothing. Markus is trying to fix this country; to get it up and running. He's the thinker, we're the doers."

Jack raised his brows. "The thinker, huh? Didn't he think about how stupid it was to go to St. Louis and get himself caught?"

Jeremiah drew himself up, clenching his jaw and glaring. "Maybe he thought some things were more important. Like freedom from your Valhalla Sector friends."

Jack's retort was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit his lip and said nothing. There was no reason to get Jeremiah mad and distrustful of him. Besides, it was kind of refreshing to hear honest loyalty.

They walked down the hall in uneasy silence and came to the room Jack was using. He paused outside the door and Jack cleared his throat. "Jeremiah, you were with the other Jack. What's he really like?"

"A lot like you. Hell, he is you. Kind of." Jeremiah shrugged.

Jack was reassured that the other Jack wasn't **_exactly _**like him. He tried to wrap his brain around the whole concept of having a double and alternate universes, and remembered what Erin had said. Maybe he should follow her lead and deal with what was in front of him, and let the others deal with the arcane and bizarre.

"After Erin's speech, we'll start signing up the volunteers," Jack suggested. "You should handle that 'cause they're not going to trust me. Tomorrow we start with weapons training. The sooner they know how to use a gun, the better."

\---+---

Erin stood at the podium; the exact same place Markus had stood only a couple of days ago. It seemed more like years. The remaining members of the Advisory Council -- Raymond, Tess, Andrew, and Kate -- flanked her, and she drew some strength from their presence, even while sharply missing Markus.

"Can I have your attention please," Erin began and had to repeat herself to get everyone to stop talking. "I know rumors have been flying around that there's been trouble at the Big Meeting. It's true." Pandemonium broke out. She waited until they settled again. "Valhalla Sector came. They attacked the meeting with helicopters, troops, and weapons, overwhelming the security in place. We know they took Daniel and since Markus and Kurdy were with him, we assume all three have been taken. We don't know the status of everyone else yet, but more information should come in, as any fugitives make their way here. However, if anyone tries to enter, I have to give the correct code to open the doors. From this time, Thunder Mountain is in lockdown. No one goes in or out, or communicates with the outside, without authorization. Nobody."

She looked around gauging the people's reaction. For the most part they seemed to be in shock. "We believe we're next on their list. We need to organize, build a house guard, be on the alert if they try anything. Markus would want us to be strong, not give in to fear, and to be ready. They will not steal our home away from us."

They erupted in cheering. Erin smiled. She wanted to give them hope; something to work for, however she couldn't tell them about the rescue plans. The spy was still out there.

She held up a hand for quiet. "But we need volunteers. We need more people than our small security force. We won't force anyone to fight, but we need as many people as we can get. Jeremiah will head the recruitment. Jack and Sam will assist Jeremiah in the training of weapons and combat. We have a large arsenal; this used to be an Air Force base before the Big Death. We will be ready."

Again the audience broke out in clapping and whistles. They were ready to do their part. Erin tried to look into everyone's eyes, one at a time. Was one of these trusted friends a spy and a murderer? It made her realize how lucky they had been that Lee had converted to their way of thinking. Because clearly this sleeper agent had not. She tried to push the thought away and continue with her talk.

"I know this isn't why most of you came here. I know I'm asking a lot. But we also have a lot, and we may have to fight in order to keep ourselves safe and free from people who want to take it away from us. Right before he left, Markus had me promise to take care of the people here if something happened to him. Not this place, though it's important, but the people. That means all of you. But I can only do that with your help. So please, look around while you eat, look at the rest of your family, and decide how much you're willing to do to help them. I hope it's a lot, because if we work together, no one can defeat us." She realized what she was really saying and swallowed hard, hoping not to start crying. "Thank you for your attention. Now eat!" she finished quickly and stepped down.

Jeremiah brought out a chair and she slumped down into it. "You did good," he whispered into her ear. "We'll have so many volunteers, we'll need another army to keep track of them all."

She gave him a weak smile. All her energy seemed to have dissipated.

"Let me get you some dinner. You probably haven't eaten all day."

She hadn't. While he was gone, Sam came over and sat down next to her.

"I hate this, Sam," Erin whispered, feeling defeated. "Thunder Mountain shouldn't be a military fortress. Our people aren't supposed to be soldiers. This isn't how it's supposed to be."

"I know," consoled Sam.

Jeremiah brought a plate of food. As Erin sat there, not touching the fork, Jeremiah picked it up and began feeding her a bit of mashed potatoes.

"Stop it," she demanded, turning her head. "I feel silly."

"Then eat on your own. If we're going to show Valhalla Sector a united front, one that won't back down, it's not going to help if you're in the infirmary because of exhaustion." He gave a grin, "I may have to stay in your room and make sure you sleep."

For a moment she wished Murray were still around. But Murray in her room and Jeremiah in her room were two very different things. "That won't be necessary," she returned sternly, then picked up her food and began shoveling it into her mouth. "Happy?" she asked, with her mouth full.

"Very," Jeremiah replied, as he too began eating his food. "I've got a big day tomorrow. Training you cloistered people here on how to fight the big bad soldiers won't be a picnic."

She rolled her eyes and snorted, "Sure, whatever you say, Mr. Military Expert. Remember, two-thirds of us came from outside, Jeremiah. We're not **_that_**cloistered."

As Erin finished her plate, Andrew came over to the table. He was wearing a troubled expression. "We've got company outside. It's Nathan and two kids. You need to give the code to open the door."

"Nathan?" she jumped up, all thought of food forgotten. Nathan had made it from St. Louis. He would know what happened.

\---+---

Sam was grateful that Erin had invited her to the debriefing with Nathan. Hopefully he would have news of Daniel too. She slipped through the door to the council room, trying to be unobtrusive.

There weren't many people inside, and Erin gestured her to take one of the empty chairs around the wooden table. Jeremiah was there as well, with Andrew, Raymond, Sarah, and a vaguely familiar young man, who turned out to be Nathan. He had his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, and was staring into it, with slumped shoulders as though exhausted or depressed. Or both.

Erin cleared her throat. "I'm glad you made it here, Nathan, so you can tell us what happened. Daniel was able to get off a radio call, so we know the meeting was attacked by a heavy force."

Nathan grunted a bitter laugh. "'Heavy force'? More goddamn guns than I've ever seen in my life. Choppers. Rockets. There was even a fucking tank. It's a miracle anybody got out."

"But people did, people got out?" Sarah asked, hopefully.

Nathan knew what she was really asking. "Not Markus," he answered heavily. "I saw that much. They took him and Daniel off by helicopter."

A silence fell. Erin and Sarah exchanged a glance, and Sarah touched Erin's shoulder in commiseration. The news wasn't unexpected, but the confirmation was still disheartening. Sam wondered why the soldiers had taken Daniel -- was it only because he was next to Markus and therefore seemed important? His age? Or, more worrisome, did they know about the gate?

Jeremiah asked, "And everyone else?"

Nathan took a long swallow of his coffee. "The rest of the prisoners got rounded up into trucks. I don't know where they were going. By then, I was too busy trying to get out of there myself." He shut his eyes. "The city was crawling with soldiers, looking out for escapees. Anyone who got out, kept going. But some got killed. At least ten others I know of, mostly my local guys. There wasn't much point in sticking around. The two boys don't have parents -- I hope they can stay."

"Of course. And we're very glad you came," Erin reassured him. "It helps to know -- even if your news isn't what we'd hoped to hear."

Nathan didn't really hear her, his dark eyes buried in the memories. "They were listening to him. That's almost the worst part -- they were all there with him, you could tell just looking. I swear we'd have an alliance right now, if he could've finished. But then those bastards came with their guns, and it all blew apart… Alyssa made a hole for me, but didn't make it herself. Damn it," the last was no more than a whisper, and he raised his mug quickly to hide the fact that he was blinking back tears.

"Alyssa?" Sarah breathed, shocked. "Oh damn. And Elizabeth?"

"Prisoner," he answered. "Her and Kurdy, I saw that. Kurdy got hit, I don't know how bad."

"We're going to get our friends out," Erin said. She sat up straight and her expression turned steely and resolute. "And we're going to make those bastards sorry they ever **_thought_**about attacking the meeting, that much I can promise, Nathan."

"I'll do whatever needs doing. Just let me help."

"I will. In case I didn't say it before, welcome home. Your room is still as you left it last year. Go eat, take a shower and get some sleep."

He gave her a weary smile and left the room.

"Jeremiah, go ahead and begin signing up the volunteers with Jack. Sam, you want to come with me to update Lee and Murray? They've probably arrived in Virginia by now."

Sam agreed and followed Erin. They had their confirmation. Daniel and Markus were both prisoners. While a possibility existed that they'd been taken someplace else, it was far more likely they'd gone straight to the base for interrogation by the brass.

The colonel and Major Kawalsky could now go in and work their rescue plan. It reminded her a bit of when the colonel had gone in to rescue Daniel from those guerrillas in Central America. But that had been their own Earth, not a military bunker on an alternate world run by corrupt officers and former NID bad guys. It wasn't exactly going to be a walk in the park.

She shook her head, trying to will the pessimistic thoughts away. O'Neill and Kawalsky had their mission; she had one of her own, here in the mountain, and dwelling on the things that might go wrong in theirs would do nobody any good, least of all Daniel and Markus.

\---+---

Jack waited in the cafeteria until Jeremiah returned from the briefing. Whoever had come knocking must have run all the way back home with the news. He felt sorry for Erin, finding out about what Simmons' butchers were capable of.

All over the room, people were huddled together--waiting. Not many had left after Erin's speech. As soon as Jeremiah entered, the noise level rose as everyone began whispering together. Ignoring the sensation his presence caused, Jeremiah began pushing several tables together and two chairs. He'd been carrying some pads of paper and pens which he then set up on the tables, aligning the pads and pens just so. Then he looked at Jack.

"Come on soldier," Jeremiah taunted. "Gotta strike while the fire's hot."

He stood up on his chair and called out in his loud voice, "Okay, we're ready to sign everyone up who wants to participate in the Thunder Mountain Regulars. All you need is the dedication to preserve your home and a bit of toughness. Form two lines and Jack and I'll take your names."

Almost as one unit, the mass of people moved to the table, but only formed one line in front of Jeremiah. No one wanted to talk to Jack. At first he felt insulted, then he really looked at them and saw the distrust reflected in their eyes. Not only did he look old, but he represented those that they were fighting against, not to mention the ones who had killed their parents long ago. Even though it wasn't his fault, he felt shamed by what his generation had done to these kids.

"I don't bite," he spoke encouragingly. "I really want to help. What's your name?" he asked the man who was second in line. Jeremiah was already talking to the first.

"David."

"David what?"

The man shrugged his shoulders.

As Jack wrote down the particulars, the people began to come into his line. They all wore a determined expression, all needing to help in any way they could. Time seemed to stand still, as Jack listened to name after name, quietly getting to know some of the residents.

"And your name?" he asked the next volunteer, who'd stood near Erin during her speech.

"Kate," she responded.

Jack diligently wrote down her name and added, short reddish curly hair, brown eyes, five feet four. She also looked pale and had dark rings under eyes as though she hadn't slept in awhile, but he didn't write that part down. She reported some experience with guns but not for a long time. "I thought we'd be safe here," she added bitterly.

"Hey, Kate," Jeremiah interjected from next to him. "I'm sorry about Kristen. We're gonna do everything we can to find who did this."

Jack realized that this must be the Kate who was sister to the murdered girl. No wonder she looked so stricken.

"Do you have any leads?" she asked, "Erin won't tell me."

"Well," Jack hedged, "this isn't the place to talk about it."

She gave him a disgruntled look but realized he was right.

"You're assigned to group six," Jack told her. "Come back tomorrow at ten in the morning."

She nodded and moved on.

"And your name?" Jack addressed the next in his line.

"Terence."

"Do you have weapons experience?" Jack jotted down the man's name and basic description: about six feet, fit build...

"Some. I can handle a gun. Where's Lee? Shouldn't he be the one signing everyone up, not some strange old guy?" he asked.

The rudeness attracted Jack's full attention. Terence didn't back down and showed no fear. In fact, he was smiling, with a little smirk at the corners of his lips. Arrogant, but that was only a problem if he was stupid or refused to take orders. Obviously a man used to being in control. Maybe a unit leader? Jack wished Lee were around so he could ask him. "Lee can't be here; he's otherwise occupied," he finally responded. "You're in group six. Be here tomorrow at ten in the morning."

Terence looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead walked away. That was good, if he knew when to keep it shut as well as challenge. Jack put a little check next to his name to take a closer look tomorrow.

Jeremiah abruptly stood, stretching his back. "I think everyone over sixteen is standing in line." He spoke as if complaining, but Jack knew he wasn't. Both were impressed that so many wanted to volunteer.

"And your name?" Jack asked the next person in line.

\---+---

Jolinar left Kurdy to Elizabeth's capable hands. They couldn't do much for him. The guards refused antibiotics, saying they didn't have the resources to spend on prisoners. They barely had enough for their own uses. However, Captain Davis allowed rubbing alcohol, clean towels, and an old tube of Neosporin that had long passed its expiration date. Jolinar knew she was going to have to suggest a 'trade' to one of the guards in order to get access to something sharp. Ironically she only wanted it to clean the wound, not for any elaborate escape scheme. But she was going to wait and see if the isopropyl would be enough. Rosha was always fearful of the suggestion of such trades and as it was her body, Jolinar respected her wishes.

Theo had wandered off earlier, with little interest in seeing to Kurdy's welfare. She worked the room, questioning fellow prisoners, hassling the guards, and coming up with a surprisingly large amount of information. Jolinar walked over to where Theo was holding forth with two guards on her favorite subject.

"My own back is killing me from sleeping on this here hard floor. Why can't they get us some decent blow-up mattresses? Or better yet, let us go." She paused, looking up onto the stage then bellowing, "You hear that? You could let us all go!"

They ignored her. By her dark looks, she hated to be ignored.

Jolinar put her hand on Theo's shoulder. "Come," she entreated.

They walked back to where Kurdy was resting. Elizabeth was stroking his forehead, murmuring words of encouragement.

"Act like I'm talking to you about his condition," Jolinar said in a low voice.

"Sure thing. He really doesn't look too good."

"We need to get this place organized," Jolinar began, looking down at Kurdy and Elizabeth, who was also listening but did not halt her gentle motions. "I believe a rescue attempt will occur, and we need to get a system set up in order to take full advantage."

"If everyone stampedes the gate, we'll all get crushed." Theo grasped the problem right away.

"That is correct. We need to set up groups, each with a leader who will have complete control over his group."

Theo was thoughtful. "So, when opportunity knocks, each leader gets his group out and then the next has its turn. But honey, there's gonna be resistance. We're not gonna be able to waltz out."

"That is a contingency we'll have to account for. You have been interacting with many of the others, how many strong leaders do you think are present?"

"Most of the people who went to the Big Meeting are strong leaders. The problem is going to be getting them to listen and help one another. This is a dog eat dog world, and I for one have always tried to be the meanest dog."

"That is why you need to select the group leaders. Think about it and start discussing it with them."

Elizabeth spoke up, not looking away from Kurdy and keeping her voice low, "You should start with Elena. She's the one in the opposite corner from us." Jolinar caught Theo's elbow to prevent her from turning to look, but Jolinar knew which one Elizabeth meant. There was a growing group in the opposite corner, all centered around a woman with the intense black eyes of a bird of prey. She missed nothing, not even that Jolinar had noticed her earlier.

Elizabeth went on, explaining in a murmur, "She's already met with Markus. You can't tell anyone, but she heads the Navajo. She's probably the most powerful ally we've got, and I'm sure she'll help. If you don't piss her off," she warned, glancing up at Theo.

Theo smiled back with a bit of a sneer. "Theo'll be on her best behavior, Sweetpea." She looked back at Kurdy, frowning. "Hope the help comes soon, he may not have a lot of time."

Jolinar concurred.

\---+---

Markus came back to awareness slowly, resisting the pull as long as he could. But in the end, he opened his eyes. He saw Daniel right away and said, with an attempt at a rueful smile, "Guess I'm not dead."

"No." Daniel didn't smile back. "But I thought you might be, for a few seconds there. How are you doing?"

Closing his eyes, Markus tried to take stock. Breathing hurt, but nothing like the sharp stabbing pain he'd felt before. Everything else felt stiff and sore. Somehow the gnawing emptiness in his stomach seemed the worst, but he wasn't going to mention that to Daniel and make him feel guilty. So he tried for some humor. "Rather like I got run over by a rampaging hippo, I imagine. Here, help me up. I hate just lying here."

Daniel complied, offering a steadying hand and arm, as Markus sat up against the wall. He shut his eyes at the sudden light-headedness and held himself very still until the various flaring aches diminished again. "Okay, staying still, good -- moving, bad," he muttered. "I get it."

"Here's water," Daniel offered him the cup and steadied it when his hand refused to stop shaking.

He drained the cup, feeling a bit better afterward. "Thanks, Daniel. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

Daniel busied himself with getting more water, facing Markus with a smile that didn't mask his concern. "Luckily you don't have to find out."

Markus didn't say anything, but he was pretty sure Daniel's remaining in his cell was a temporary thing, until Waverly overruled the doctor. Waverly had to know that having Daniel in here with him helped him stay strong. But it said something for Fukizaki's power in this place that Daniel was still here.

Daniel returned to his side, refilled cup in one hand. "I have something else for you." He held out his other hand, with two small pills in his palm. "Here. For pain."

It was tempting. Two little white pills would make the pain go away. If they were strong enough, this whole catastrophe might go away from his mind and give him some peace.

But no one should eat pomegranates in Hades, or apples in the Garden of Eden, and sure as hell, not happy pills in Valhalla Sector, without paying the consequences that were sure to follow.

"No," Markus pushed Daniel's hand away. "I can't. Put them away."

"Markus -- "

"No," Markus said more forcefully. "I won't. What if they come? What if Simmons comes back while I'm under their influence?"

"Fukizaki gave them -- "

Markus cut him off. Daniel was missing the point. "I don't care if they came from **God**! I won't take them. I won't risk betraying **everything** I care about, just for a few hours of feeling better."

"Fukizaki wouldn't give you something that would fog your mind," Daniel persisted, holding out his hand again. "He's done nothing but help you."

"Help me, maybe. But don't forget he answers to Waverly, and General Waverly, as you might have noticed, is the person in charge of this bastion of truth, justice, and the American Way." Markus shook his head and gestured with his good hand. "I'm not taking pills that might come from Waverly."

"He doesn't actually answer to Waverly," Daniel said, looking at him earnestly. "He and I had a talk. I know who he is."

"And you trust him?" Markus let out a bark of laughter that he instantly regretted as a spike felt driven in his chest, choking off his air. He shut his eyes and straightened slowly against the wall, easing the pressure after a moment of calm. But it didn't stop him from talking, shaking with the sudden intensity of emotion. "He's also the person in charge of the virus experiments. Experiments where they kidnapped children and fed them a vaccine that killed them horribly, other atrocities I can't even bear to think about, all in the name of unlocking the fucking virus. So _**don't**_ tell me he's a good guy, because he's not."

Daniel seemed taken back by the words at first, before he settled next to him on the cot, those damn pills still in his hand. "You don't understand. I admit I don't know all the details yet of how those things happened, but I do trust him. Because he's not who you think he is." He paused, glanced at the empty corridor outside their cell, and added in a soft murmur, "He's not _**what**_ you think he is."

Markus shot him a look, suddenly intrigued. "Oh?"

"Remember those people we were talking about on the ride to St. Louis? The rebels?" Daniel asked. "He's one of them."

Markus stared at him. Daniel was suggesting that Doctor Fukizaki was a Tok'ra. "You're kidding me."

Daniel shook his head once. "No. I'm not."

"He told you this?" Markus asked skeptically.

"I sort of figured it out and gave him a code phrase, which he recognized. When he comes back, we can talk to him some more. But the important thing is, he wants to help."

Markus was stunned, as he tried to run through the ramifications. Fukizaki wasn't from this planet at all. Or at least the thing living in his brain wasn't from here; it was an alien symbiote. But why? Why was he here? Something about the virus, obviously, but what?

"He's going to help you," Daniel added, in reassurance. "He's going to bring antibiotics so you don't get pneumonia. He seems very concerned about you and making sure you're okay."

Instead of being comforted, Markus felt profoundly uneasy. Why would Fukizaki -- or whatever his name really was -- be concerned about him? He had been the one to tell Waverly and Simmons about the Big Death secret in Thunder Mountain. Why would he do that, except to get the secret himself? Unless it was something related to how a different Markus had become a Tok'ra. And _**that**_ bothered him on so many levels, he didn't even want to think about it. "Did you find out his name?"

"No," Daniel shook his head. "Hopefully I'll at least have heard of his counterpart back home. The host isn't familiar to me, but that's not surprising given the circumstances." He held out the pills again. "So here."

"No."

Daniel groaned in frustration. "Markus! Now that you know -- "

"Not until I talk to him." If then, he thought but did not say. He continued more calmly, hoping that Daniel would let it go so they wouldn't have to fight over this. "One well-meaning attempt to make me feel better could end up hurting a lot more people than only me. I can't take the risk. Please -- put them away."

Daniel glared at him, disgruntled. "Okay," he gave in. "I think you're needlessly being a martyr, but fine, whatever you want." He put the pills in his jacket pocket.

"Thanks."

"I don't particularly like being thanked for leaving people in pain," he said, and lifted his gaze heavenward with a sigh. "And I thought Jack was stubborn."

Markus had to be amused by that, knowing how stubborn Jack was. "I will take the water though," Markus held out his hand for the cup, which Daniel gave him. It wasn't even that difficult to drink by himself, though his shoulder and back throbbed fiercely when he was done. The water did ease both his dry mouth and hunger, at least for the moment.

Daniel slumped against the wall. "I guess we wait again."

Markus didn't really like the idea of an extended silence. "Talk to me, Daniel. You said you'd seen wonders out there. Like what?"

Daniel glanced at him and then smiled. "How about I tell you how it all began? I was giving a museum talk about how the parallel development of Earth's cultures suggested an outside, alien influence."

Markus snorted lightly. That would be rather like him in the old days presenting a paper about how to achieve FTL with enough rubberbands. "I bet that went over well."

"Yeah. They all walked out. But when I left, there was this limousine waiting, and I got in, to find a woman named Catherine Langford. Her father had found something at Giza, back in 1928, and she wanted me to be part of the project to figure it out…"

Markus listened to Daniel's tale of the opening of the Stargate and the first trip to Abydos, by turns amazed and intrigued. It was enough to keep his mind occupied and away from the lurking shadows of pain and fear.

Daniel had told him that he had stayed behind on Abydos, when the door opened at the end of the corridor. Markus flinched and tensed, as several pairs of booted feet approached.

He knotted his hands into the blanket across his legs, heart pounding. God, not again. Not so soon.

Two guards and Fukizaki came into view and he relaxed somewhat. Markus looked closely at the doctor, looking for a sign of his being a Tok'ra, and couldn't see anything. He looked perfectly ordinary.

"Open it," he ordered the guards in a tone of voice well-accustomed to getting his way. "I'll call you when I need to leave."

When the doctor was inside the cell and the guards were on their way out, Fukizaki gave Markus a searching look. "You didn't take them, did you."

"No, he didn't," Daniel offered.

"I am not surprised, I guess." Fukizaki gave a small sigh and approached. "They are only analgesics. I make them myself, for Devon, and I assure you, they are not tainted nor will they compromise your mental clarity in any way, except perhaps improving it by easing pain."

Markus nodded once, but not of agreement. "I'd like to know your real name."

Fukizaki glanced at Daniel. "You told him?"

"He knows," Daniel confirmed. "I've explained a bit about your people."

"As you wish." Fukizaki moved closer, kneeling on the floor in front of Markus. "Please do not be alarmed," he requested softly.

His eyes flashed with a golden glow that made Markus flinch back. His voice when he spoke again was still soft, but weird, almost a harmonic, "My host is named Chuan, I am Malek of the Tok'ra. I am honored to meet you, Markus Alexander."

Markus stared. For a moment, nothing else existed, but staring at him and hearing the blood roaring in his ears. How could this be?

Malek. Malek was _**here**_.

"You're Malek?" Daniel asked, also sounding shocked.

Malek frowned and glanced at Daniel. "You know of me?"

"I … do," Daniel confirmed hesitantly, with a glance at Markus. "I've met several Tok'ra in the past few years. Selmak, Lantash, um, others... It's a long story."

Malek looked up and all trace of that other presence was gone. He was Fukizaki again, and his voice was normal. "I will have to hear it another time. I come with good news for Markus. General Waverly agreed to keeping you away from Simmons for three days."

In the midst of relief, there was still a nagging suspicion. Markus asked, "In return for what?"

Fukizaki smiled faintly. "Well, the general thinks the plan is to have me be friendly with you, to try to have you give me the secret willingly. But this gives me time to get you both out of here."

"That sounds great," Daniel said. "We'll do whatever we can to help."

Markus wasn't as enthusiastic. What if that really was the plan, to make friends with him and betray him later? No, that was just paranoia. He couldn't distrust _**everyone**_. He rubbed his forehead, trying to think. "What about everyone else? Everybody from the meeting, where are they?"

"Not here. In one of our garrisons west of here, or so Waverly said." He offered the white pills again, along with a yellow one. "Take them. The yellow one is an antibiotic to prevent pneumonia."

Markus took them in his hand and glanced up at the doctor. "Before I do, I want to know about the virus program -- the deaths, the experiments. You're the one in charge, how could you let those things happen?"

Fukizaki let his hand drop to his side. His tone grew more formal, and Markus wondered if the doctor was offended. "For fifteen years, my objective has been to keep the Big Death virus out of Valhalla Sector's grasp, and that is what I have done. Devon and I are not the only scientists to have survived, and many of them might have acquired its secret without my intervention. It is usually all I can do to suggest blind research alleys or sabotage experiments to force them on the wrong track. But it was never in my power to stop the research or the experiments completely."

"Even when they're _**evil**_!" Markus demanded in frustration.

Fukizaki's gaze looked very old in that moment. "I could not stop Simmons from doing what he wanted to you, Markus. What makes you think I could control anything? I must use my influence carefully, or it will disappear."

Markus dropped his eyes and nodded once, suddenly exhausted. He couldn't afford the strength needed to keep getting upset. "All right. You had to pick your battles, I guess I understand that." He dropped all three pills in his mouth and swallowed them dry. "There. Happy now?"

He stared at Fukizaki, daring him to gloat.

"I will be happy when you are free, not before," Fukizaki answered, ignoring his hostility.

Markus frowned and shook his head in puzzlement. "Why do you even care? I don't understand. You don't know me. Do you?" he asked uneasily.

Fukizaki folded his arms and shook his head once. "Not before you came here, no. But I knew of you, and I knew that you placed yourself in opposition to this place, giving your allies hope that the future would be better. I have seen much of the worst of humanity in this place, therefore I must act to preserve the best." He rose back to his feet with a pat of Markus' knee. "Is there anything else I can do right now? I can't linger."

"Food," Daniel suggested. "Markus hasn't had any. In days."

Fukizaki looked alarmed. "Truly? Simmons' idea, no doubt. I should be able to have Waverly countermand it, so hold on a little bit longer, Markus."

He left shortly afterward, and after a silence, Daniel said, "Well, I didn't expect that. Of all the Tok'ra to find in this place…"

Markus didn't say anything, but he was thinking about coincidence, and at what point coincidence stopped being the random intersection of two events and became part of a design. He was getting the very cold feeling that the evidence for an overall design was building up at his expense. That or he wasn't thinking rationally anymore, applying meaning where there was none. He wasn't sure which idea he liked better.

"Hey, you okay?" Daniel asked, touching his shoulder. "Sometimes people get a little freaked out when they meet an alien the first time."

"What?" Markus asked, roused from his thoughts. "Oh, no, that didn't bother me all that much. It was strange, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't seem that important right now."

"I guess not, except where it's going to help us get out."

Markus leaned back and closed his eyes. It had been just a conversation, but he felt wrung out. At least he'd have a few days to get stronger, before further interrogation. And if Fukizaki managed to get him food, that would be even better.

He didn't think any time had passed when he started at the sound of the door opening again. But he must have fallen asleep, because he was on his back and Daniel had moved to stand at the front of the cell. The pills had helped him feel a bit better, he realized as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. If he moved too quickly or twisted, his ribs still felt like an ice pick was stuck in there, but the bruises were a more tolerable ache.

He thought the opening outer door was Fukizaki, coming back, but when Daniel turned, he saw the look and knew it was bad.


	20. Chapter 20

Four guards came into view, two with their weapons out and ready. One opened the cell door, and indicated Markus, "You. Come with us."

"Where are you taking him?" Daniel demanded, without answer.

But Markus knew. He recognized one of them as Ramirez, the sergeant who had helped Simmons set up the electric shock torture. That meant Simmons or maybe Waverly. It had all been a lie, all that about protecting him from Simmons. A lie or Fukizaki's influence was not as strong as even he had thought.

"All right," he agreed quietly and went to the front, holding out his hands for the manacles.

"No!" Daniel exclaimed. But with the guns trained on them both, he didn't dare even move. "No, General Waverly gave him a three-day reprieve," he explained hastily. "You're not supposed to do this."

"Our orders are to take him to the colonel," Ramirez snapped. "Move out. Watch the prisoner."

They went. He recognized the path this time -- the guards were bringing him to Simmons' office. Relief was like water rushing through him, tempered by suspicion. What did Simmons want now?

The office door opened with a wafting breeze of various food-smells that were like a tantalizing banquet. He realized how intensely hungry he really was. His stomach cramped, making it hard to walk, when the guards brought him in.

Simmons was there, back in formal uniform, and he had his large desk laid with dinner: a plate of meat, potatoes, and gravy, a small loaf of bread, a bowl of chocolate pudding, and coffee. He took a bite of bread and chewed, watching his guards handcuff Markus' wrists to the arms of the chair. He swallowed and smiled, "Good evening. I'm having a little dinner. I heard that you haven't eaten in a while, so I thought I'd invite you to join me."

Son of a bitch. Markus tightened his jaw, as liquid hate seemed to flow through his body instead of blood. Until that moment he hadn't actively wished Simmons dead. But now he knew that if he got the chance, he wouldn't hesitate. He looked at the knife, wishing he had some sort of superpower to levitate it right into Simmons jugular.

Simmons cut a small piece of the meat and took another bite, still smiling. "It's really quite good. You should try some."

Markus raised his gaze to Simmons, refusing to let the taunts get to him any more. "What do you want?"

"It's really more what **you** want, Markus. Like food, for example. I may not be able to do anything directly to you for another three days," his mouth curled in disgust, "but the general agreed with me that we can't go too easy on you. So, if you want to eat, you'll cooperate with us."

He slid a piece of paper across the desk and Markus saw that it was a group photo, black and white, of Kurdy, Elizabeth, and the blonde woman from the meeting sitting close together. His heart clenched with anxiety, but he kept his face blank, knowing he couldn't give Simmons another key to use against him. He felt a bit better, realizing they looked to be mostly in one piece, except Kurdy's arm was bandaged. He tried to figure out where they were, but the chain-link fence could be anywhere.

"Who are they?" Simmons asked. "Where are they from?"

Wondering if Simmons seriously thought he was going to give in this easily, Markus gave a one-armed shrug. "Don't know."

"Oh, come now, Markus, don't play the fool," Simmons sneered. "They were captured at the meeting."

Markus looked down at the photo. "Really? Well, it's not like I knew everyone there. I was just giving the opening address. I don't know them."

"What about this one?" Simmons slid over another photo.

It was worse. The four people in this photo were obviously dead, arranged side-by-side in the snow. It was one thing to believe that some had died in the attack, and quite another to see proof of it. He truly didn't know three of them, but one of them was Alyssa. Another smart, pretty young woman was gone because of these bastards at Valhalla Sector, who killed without thought or remorse, using death as just another tool.

Simmons continued, "I can see you know them, Markus. Who are they?"

"They're dead," he whispered.

"Well, yes, I know that. Who are they? Where are they from?"

Markus looked up at him, abruptly furious, quivering with outrage. "You show me this, and you expect me to tell you _**anything**_? Those people only wanted peace and safety, and now they're dead because you and Waverly kill everything in your way. Seeing this only makes me _**more**_ determined not to say anything, because I know that every single person I might give up to you will end up exactly the same way. So fuck you and your pathetic little games, I'm not playing."

Simmons didn't say anything for a long moment, just watched him. His sneering lips formed a slow, cold smile. "But you are playing, Markus. You can't help it. That's more of a rise I got out of you than when you were strapped to the table, screaming."

Markus' hands gripped the arms of the chair and he felt dizzy and ill, memories sweeping through his mind, of looking up at that face right before his body turned to fire.

"Gordon is weak," Simmons declared. "He doesn't like to do what has to be done. But his protection won't save you, Markus. I promise you that. If I have to keep you on that table for days, until you don't know anything else but the pain, I will. And if I have to chain you naked across my desk and have the men take turns at you, I will. Do not mistake my restraint for a lack of will." He leaned forward and folded his hands, his dark eyes gleaming. "Let me put it plainly -- so even a half-starved genius can understand -- in three days, when you come back to me, you will give me the information I want. If not, I will break you. By whatever means I have to. And you will beg to tell me everything."

His heart was pounding, as Markus returned Simmons' cold stare with one of his own, trying to deny the fear shaking him. "You can try. You'll do whatever you want anyway," he answered. The more words he said, the calmer he felt. Simmons meant it. But so did Markus, and his strength didn't come from cruelty and fear, but from something much stronger. "But I promise you this: you'll never get anything from me. I will not betray them, no matter what you do. Because, in the end, I know your days are numbered. You and Waverly and all those like you are clinging to the past, but the future is going to sweep you away, whether I'm around or not."

Simmons chuckled, but it sounded forced to Markus. "Bold words. I think you even believe them. But it shows how incredibly naïve you are, boy. Except for your insignificant little show of resistance, which we crushed like _**that**_," he snapped his fingers, "the country is ours. There is no future, but what _**we**_ make of it."

Markus thought of Seth, the spider in Kansas weaving his web of conquest, and another alien right under Simmons' nose. Laughing hurt, but it was worth it to see the look on his face. "You don't know half what you think you do, and I only hope I'm around to watch you get what you deserve, you son of a bitch."

Somewhere behind him he heard one of the guards step closer. That was his only warning, before sharp, blinding pain bloomed in the back of his head. He jerked violently, nearly overturning his chair.

For a moment he couldn't see anything but bright flashes in an all-consuming darkness. Then his mind began to clear and he wondered what the hell the guard had hit him with.

He realized that he was being dragged somewhere, his feet scraping the cold tile, and tried to get his legs working, but couldn't tell if he succeeded or not at first. Damn, his head hurt.

Back in the cell again, he found Daniel waiting anxiously.

"Are you okay?" Daniel asked, guiding him to the cot to sit down. "You're back so soon, but you look awful. What happened?"

He had to wait a minute, to get a clear thought through the intense throbbing in his skull. Opening his jaw to talk seemed to make it worse. "I, uh, went to Simmons' office. He ate dinner in front of me, showed me some pictures, and threatened me. I told him to go to hell. One of his underlings whacked me in the head. I came back." He reached back to the tender spot on his head, relieved to find there was no bleeding. "Do you know the symptoms of a concussion?"

"Blurry vision, vomiting, sleepiness, headache," Daniel recited.

"Oh, good." His eyes, when he opened them, seemed to work fine, except the lights seemed way too bright. The cramping in his stomach felt the same as before he got hit. And both tiredness and headache were to be expected after getting clocked on the head.

He leaned back carefully and closed his eyes, murmuring, "I would like to go home now." He meant it to be sort of a joke, but it came out rather plaintive.

"Soon, Markus," Daniel said in soft reassurance with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. "Just hang on a little while longer."

Not quite believing it, but wanting to, he fixed his thoughts on Meaghan, and the remembered sound of her voice soothed him into sleep.

\---+---

Malek slipped past Libby into Devon's quarters, finding his friend resting against his headboard of his bed. He had his right arm in a sling, but Malek saw that the swelling in his face had gone down.

"Good evening, my friend," he greeted. Devon waved with his good hand to take the chair.

"Gordon. I hear you've been to see him."

Malek quirked half a smile. "News travels quickly, I see. Yes, I've been to see Markus."

Devon shook his head once. "Poor kid. When Libby told me he was here, I didn't want to believe it. How's he doing?"

"About what you'd expect."

Libby perched on the end of Devon's bed. "They hurt him, too?"

"Electric shock yesterday, and John today. Two fractured ribs." He shook his head in disgust. "I was there yesterday -- Simmons wasn't even bothering to ask questions. I persuaded Waverly to give Markus to me for three days' relief, but he refused to let him have food."

Devon understood the problem. "You can't bring it. They watch you too closely." He glanced down at the dark-haired Libby. "But you…"

She smiled impishly and patted his foot. "Sure. I can do it. Especially if I go when Thomason's on duty. He's always too busy flirting to actually look at what I have. Is tomorrow morning soon enough?" she asked.

"Yes, better to go when you have a clear opportunity," Malek agreed. "But we need some sort of plan. Markus can't stay here."

Libby's eyes grew impossibly wide. "You want to help him escape?"

Malek wondered why she was so surprised by the idea. _Maybe because we are involving ourselves at last, _Chuan suggested.

_Perhaps._ Out loud Malek explained to her, "If he stays here, he dies, Libby. Simmons and Waverly are only keeping him alive for now because of the Big Death secret he supposedly has. But when they realize he doesn't actually have one or they get tired of trying to find out, they will kill him, I am sure of it."

Devon agreed with a pained grunt. "They'll package it as a trial, with the outcome fore-ordained as a traitor, of course, and then a firing squad. Or hell, hanging, for all I know. Something gruesome, I'm sure, if Simmons has anything to do with it. He's all for 'setting an example'."

"Assuming Markus survives interrogation," Malek added. "And I am none too sure of that. You did not see Simmons. He was practically foaming at the mouth. Something about Markus brings out the worst in him."

Devon chuckled without much humor. "Yeah, he sees the yawning pit of his future in hell. That's enough to upset anybody." He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes wearily. "So, do you have a plan?"

"No. Not yet. But I think you both should go, too."

Devon's eyes popped open. "No. That's impossible. Gordon, you know if I leave, they will_**stop at nothing**_ to get me back. Or prevent anybody else from getting the virus, which amounts to the same thing."

"Come," Malek chided gently. "Don't you think if I leave, they'll think I have it too? Much as we might wish otherwise, neither Simmons nor Waverly is an idiot. They will presume that I've been a traitor all along, and I kept the virus from them as assiduously as you, only by different means."

Devon stared at him. "I'm sorry -- did you just say that _**you're**_ leaving too?"

"Of course." But there was really no 'of course' about it. So he tried to explain. "I spoke with him today." He folded his hands and remembered that dark gaze, angry not at his own torture or what had been done to him, but at what Malek _**hadn't**_ done. While he thought he would do it all again, the moment had been a sobering one. "He reminded me that the lesser of two evils is still evil. Atrocity is being committed in my name, all to prevent our supposed masters from getting the Big Death. I … cannot continue as I have been," he admitted quietly. "Not anymore."

And it was true. Both he and Chuan knew it. Though the Tok'ra were accustomed to 'necessary evil' in the pursuit of a larger goal, Malek was heartily sick of it. Fifteen years of watching what little good he had accomplished be turned to horrifying ends was enough.

Devon nodded once, slowly, not taking his eyes from his friend. "He got to you, didn't he?" he asked finally. "Just like he got to Lee."

"He said nothing I wasn't already thinking. But, yes, like Lee, I suppose he encouraged me to make a choice. So when he goes, I will go with him. He may need medical help, in any case. And you," Malek returned to his main point, "should come as well."

Libby grasped Devon's nearest hand. "We should," she said, gazing at him earnestly. "He's right. They'll know about him. And then they'll come down extra hard on you."

Malek recognized that stubborn expression on Devon's face and knew the brave man was going to resist. So he held out his other inducement. "You know that Jeremiah is at Thunder Mountain. If you help rescue Markus, you can be reunited with your son."

Devon glared at him. "You play dirty."

"I'd really like to meet him," Libby wheedled, clasping his hand in both of hers. "Lee can't stand him, that must mean he's honest and good and annoyingly moral. Just like you," she teased.

Devon looked from one to another, disgruntled. "How's a man supposed to resist the two of you?"

Malek smiled a little, well-pleased by the outcome of this visit. "You cannot." He rose to his feet. "Ponder our escape while you lay there. I must put in some time in the lab, lest they think I am not doing my job." At the door, he turned back to address Libby, "Don't forget to bring Markus food. It would be a pity if we plan an elaborate escape and have him too weak to participate."

She brought two fingers to her forehead in a mock-salute, and he left.

Malek felt the talk had gone well.

_Devon is not quite as convinced as you seem to think_, Chuan added.

_He will agree when the time comes. But this is not what troubles me_.

_I know. It is Markus and his surprise at hearing your name. Daniel claimed to have met Selmak and Lantash before, suggesting they told him of you, _Chuan said.

_Then he should have known it was I in this place. But he was surprised too,"_ Malek returned, bothered that Daniel had not known. It made no sense for Daniel to have heard of Malek from a Tok'ra and not know he was here -- it was not as if his location was difficult to track, being in one place the last fifteen years. Yet how else could Daniel know his name?

_Perhaps we should ask Lantash if he recalls meeting Daniel Jackson_, Chuan suggested.

Malek agreed. Their next contact he would ask Lantash and Martouf and confirm what Daniel had claimed.

\---+---

_ **Monday March 23** _

Theo had slept poorly. Partly because of the uncomfortable floor, but mostly because Kurdy was restless--tossing and turning, moaning and groaning. Elizabeth had spent most of the night either comforting him or bathing his head with cold water. The guards didn't investigate and Elizabeth was afraid of calling attention to his state in case they decided it would be easier to kill him than deal with it. Theo didn't have such inhibitions, but then Kurdy wasn't hers, so she wouldn't interfere.

Besides, Jo-Lynn had given her a mission. She had spent most of the night contemplating these so-called group leaders. A list of six others had formed in her mind, and she eagerly awaited morning to be able to sound them out.

When the lights were finally put on and the breakfast trolleys rolled in, Theo was already sizing up her first candidate. Jo-Lynn immediately went up to soldier handing out food and whispered something. He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. The man spooning the cereal into the bowls frowned at him, but said nothing.

Jo-Lynn took some juice and walked over to Kurdy. Theo watched as she then removed some pills from the packaging and made Kurdy take them. A small smile of gratitude appeared on Elizabeth's face.

Theo's stomach growled so she wandered over to the trolley and her first victim of the morning. She smiled at him; he took an instinctive step backwards. Theo loved it when she intimidated the best of them without even trying.

"Are you as sick of this hell hole as Theo?" she asked, opening up the conversation. He began to look around, guiltily. "No, don't advertise our discussion," she chastised. "Let's sit down and talk things over."

After she was done with him, she returned the dish with only a minimum of lip before approaching the woman Elizabeth had mentioned. Theo recognized a born leader when she saw one and this woman fit the bill from head to toe. Reining in her usual obnoxious attitude, she introduced herself as a friend of Markus and began outlining Jo-Lynn's idea.

"You want me to be one of these leaders?" Elena asked.

"Yes. You should have at least twelve in your group. If by some miracle we can swipe some weapons, as group leader, you'll get one first. Once on the Outside, you take your head count and we'll head to the End of the World."

"You really think his people are gonna get us out?" Elena sounded very doubtful.

"They're comin'," Theo assured her. "We just gotta be ready. Are you in?"

"Most definitely. Who else do you have in mind?"

Theo was confident that by dinnertime, the place would be ready. She glanced back at Kurdy. He was resting more quietly. Help had better come soon. Where was Jeremiah? She had expected him here by now.

\---+---

Jeremiah met up with O'Neill and Sam for breakfast. He listened as they plotted and planned how they would organize these "civilians" into a workable army. Most of the time he was clueless, but he listened, hoping to glean a bit of military know-how. After all, wasn't he supposed to be teaching these recruits, too?

Jack was interested in how well they handled a gun. Sam stressed safety and a willingness to follow orders. Jeremiah could give two hoots about the "chain of command," but this concept was extremely important to both of them, despite them being from different dimensions or whatever, so he supposed he could preach this also.

When the first group arrived, Jeremiah sat back and watched Jack try to charm Lee's security crew. They were eighteen men and women who knew the Mountain backwards and forwards, and judging by their attitude, believed they should be leading this army. It was hard to believe that yesterday they'd seemed uncertain, wondering about the rumors of Lee in the brig and then his absence. But Erin had talked to Carl and the others and gotten them all on the list. It had been hard for him to sit there and listen to her lie that the spy thing had been a ploy to help smoke out the traitor. They'd all been glad to know that Lee was away planning to rescue Markus, then they'd been sworn to secrecy.

As Jack droned on, Jeremiah started doodling on a piece of paper. He was absolutely no use. Granted, this first session's purpose was so Jack could get a feel of each person's qualifications and strengths, but Jeremiah was bored.

When it was time for the second group to arrive, Jack made the first group stay. Everyone who had no weapon experience had been placed together in this group. Jack went through his spiel then asked the first group to take the inexperienced members to the armory and begin an introduction to the guns stored there.

And so the morning dragged on. The longer Jeremiah sat, the more he realized that he was not going to be any help at all. Jack didn't ask, but even Sam left after the first three sessions. Jack seemed to thrive, taking control of the Mountains residents and working to boost their morale, while they gained the needed confidence. He stood straighter, more confidently, more like his other reality counterpart.

While this metamorphosis was interesting to watch, it wasn't enough to alleviate Jeremiah's boredom. By lunchtime, he'd had enough. The sixth group was letting out, and he'd done nothing but sit and twirl his pen.

"Jack, I can't take it anymore," he stated, somewhat more belligerently than he had intended.

"What's your problem?" he retaliated.

Terence and Kate came up to the desk, looking to intervene in case of a fight.

Jeremiah made an effort to relax. "I'm not needed here. You've got everyone in hand. When it comes to training tomorrow, you have the security team to help. I'm not the kind that works well in a group. I like working alone. There must be something else that would still help but be better suited to what I do best."

Jack didn't say anything for a minute, staring at him before suddenly asking, "You said you were good at recon?"

"Yeah, me and Kurdy were a team."

"You'll have to clear this with Erin, but it would be nice to know what Millhaven's up to."

"Millhaven?" Jeremiah questioned.

"It's Valhalla's main base in Colorado. It's both a hub for those further west and a way for them to keep track of you guys."

Jeremiah noticed how Terence had stiffened, and had to admit, he was unnerved by the spying as well. "What would I have to do? Could I just walk into town?"

"No. You'd have to keep out of sight, and look around. See if there's any build-up of forces, or excessive action that might indicate preparation for a strike here. If they were planning on attacking the Mountain, they'd group there."

Jeremiah smiled. "I can do that."

"But not alone," Terence interjected. "You can't go into such a dangerous place alone. What if you got caught? You need a partner, and since Kurdy's not here, I'll volunteer."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather go alone. I'll be careful." Jeremiah was already looking forward to getting out of the Mountain and doing something useful.

Terence insisted, "You can't, Jeremiah. From what Jack says, it could be dangerous. You need backup."

"I've lived a lot of years without someone watching my back, I think I can make it another few days." What was with this guy? Couldn't Terence take a hint that he didn't want company?

Jack was frowning at Terence. "Thank you for offering," Jack drawled, "but I need you here."

Jeremiah had no intention of arguing all day. "I'll go clear it with Erin," he stated then walked out of the room. Let Jack handle the eager volunteer.

\---+---

Terence fumed all the way to his room. Damn that O'Neill! Now here was the perfect opportunity, Jeremiah going to Millhaven, and he wasn't allowed to go with. Damn O'Neill, the stupid traitor. At first Terence hadn't been sure, but now, he had his proof. Major Jack O'Neill had betrayed Valhalla Sector and was actively giving inside information to the enemy. The bastard was actually training them to defeat the United States military. There was no excuse for such treason.

Jeremiah at Millhaven. Terence was practically salivating at the thought of being the one to bring him in. He'd at least get a promotion to major. Granted, the colonel wouldn't be happy at losing his mole, but having Jeremiah in his hands would out-weigh all of that.

But, where was Lee? The brig was empty. Lee was nowhere to be found. Had Lee talked himself out? Had he given enough info to Erin to buy his freedom? Had he escaped? His damned security team had defected to O'Neill fast enough. What the hell was going on?

If only he could contact someone. He had vital information and no ability to tell anyone. He paced inside his small room, feeling caged, imprisoned in this pit of a mountain. Damn that Sam Carter, too, whoever the hell she was. Although she acted military, she couldn't be. Terrence knew everyone.

\---+---

Jeremiah knocked on Erin's office door.

"Come in," she called.

Jeremiah came in. "You look like shit," he couldn't help exclaiming after one look at her. "Have you had any sleep?"

"Some," she responded tiredly.

Jeremiah started worrying. Usually she would have given him grief for saying that to her.

"I just miss Markus," she continued, trying vainly to smooth her hair back from her face, even though several locks had come out of the ponytail. "I thought I knew what he does all day. Actually I thought I was doing most of the work," she snorted ruefully. "But now I know better. I have no idea how he keeps things running so smoothly. I'm way over my head."

"He has you," Jeremiah pointed out, trying to get her to smile. "You're trying to do both his job and yours."

She didn't really disagree. "The others have helped a lot, but there's just so much…" she stared for a moment at the scattered papers on the table then looked up again. "I'm sure you didn't come here to listen to me gripe. What can I do for you? Problems with the new Jack?"

He plopped down on the chair across from her. "Not really, but I'm not cut out for training a bunch soldiers. It's just not -- me, I guess. Jack suggested a mission, but wanted me to check it out with you first. He says there's a town close by called Millhaven which is a satellite base for Valhalla. He'd like me to go check it out."

"Why?"

"Cause if Valhalla were planning something against Thunder Mountain, they'd organize there. I'm also thinking that if I can get close to the leaders, I may be able to hear where the prisoners from St Louis are being held. Maybe they'll be talking about it as they walk down the road or over beer or something."

"That's dreaming," Erin sighed, "but worth a shot. You think you can do it without getting caught?"

"Oh yeah, but can't guarantee that I'll find out anything."

"Okay. You can go, but keep in touch. Radio back at least every twelve hours, or more often, if you find out something."

"I'll leave in the morning --" he started, but she shook her head.

"No. Today. Not right now, if you want to finish up with Jack," she said. "But go soon. If they **are** building up against us, I'd rather know sooner than later. And if, by some miracle, we can find out where everybody is, I want to know that too." She glanced at the window, looking toward the big ring but not seeing it. "The days are passing, Jeremiah. We've got three recon teams out east but we still don't know anything. And I'm tired of sitting in the dark."

Jeremiah raised his brows at the information that three teams were out, though he didn't know why it should be a surprise. If he hadn't gotten all involved with the old people and if Kurdy were here, the two of them would be out there too, trying to scrape up some information. "I'll see what I can find out," he said.

\---+---

Libby left Devon and headed to her room. Last fall, she had joined a club and learned how to can fruits and vegetables. The women of Valhalla were always organizing some kind of club or other to keep themselves occupied. Libby usually avoided them like the plague, finding working in the lab with Devon more worthwhile. But she liked having the inside line at what was going down. Wives always knew that shit. So, she had joined. As a consequence, she had, in her closet, twenty jars of applesauce and ten jars of peaches. There was no way Simmons would find out about Markus having food if it came from her personal collection.

Bubbling inside with laughter, Libby removed two jars and slid them inside her lab coat. This she tried to fold over her arm so that it looked like she just didn't want to wear it anymore. As an afterthought, she took a spoon and slid that into her pocket. Then she grabbed a small cloth bag, which Gordon had given her earlier, and shoved it into her other pocket. Now, to the brig.

The halls contained the usual traffic, and she made herself stop and chit chat with numerous young men. It was always best to keep a flirtatious relationship with most, so that they never took her seriously. She'd always found it easy to laugh and be friendly, except for right after the Big Death. Then, there hadn't been anything to be happy about.

As Libby got to the brig, she saw that Thomason wasn't the guard on duty; it was Lt. Granger instead, one whom she'd been trying to cultivate, but never had the opportunity. "Hello, Lieutenant," she said in her most sultry voice, always ready to take advantage of a situation.

"Libby," he relaxed his stance. "What brings you here?"

She exaggerated a sigh. "Devon's worried about Markus. Doctor Fukizaki stopped by earlier and told him how badly Colonel Simmons had John beat him up. Devon wants me to see how he's doing." She turned serious eyes on him. "What do you think? Was he badly hurt?"

"Yes, mam. John did a number on his ribs. Broke some."

"You mind if I go inside and take a look?"

He smiled. "Not much you can do for him. Sure."

"Thanks." She patted him on the arm. Physical connection was always good.

He opened the door and let her walk in, closing and locking it again behind her. Pure luck, she thought gleefully. No one else around to see or hear what she was doing.

Libby walked in front of the cell where both Markus and Daniel were being held. Markus looked to be sleeping on the cot, but Daniel was awake. He was sitting on the floor next to the cot, but didn't rise when he saw her.

"How's he doing?" she asked in a whisper, not wanting to disturb Markus.

"He's in a lot of pain. Imagine that," Daniel returned. The quiet of his voice didn't conceal the bitter, sarcastic tone.

"Gordon mentioned he's not allowed food, but if he's hurting that bad, he may not be all that hungry."

Daniel's eyes darkened, but he didn't respond. She felt a bit self-conscious and knew she wasn't making a very good impression. "I brought some," she pulled out the two jars. "It's just applesauce, but it should taste good. There's even cinnamon in it."

Daniel smiled, which she returned relieved. He got up and she handed them to him through the bars. "I made it myself last fall. Oh, here's a spoon." She pulled it out of her pocket.

"Thank you, Libby. You're right, he hasn't been hungry or asking for food. But when he wakes up, I'll make sure he eats some."

She decided it was a good time for the crowning moment. "Here. Gordon wanted me to bring these, in case he can't come," she pulled out the tied-off cloth of pills, which she handed to Daniel as well. His smile brightened.

"This will help a lot. Thank you."

"Devon wants to meet you guys, but is too afraid of Simmons finding out and taking it out on both you and him. He didn't fare very well after their last meeting."

"What happened?"

"The usual. Simmons wants Devon to give him the vaccine, so he can inoculate all the Valhalla people, and then use the virus to make the rest of the world bow down and worship him."

Daniel paled. "Worship?" he questioned, looking worried.

"Figure of speech," she answered, puzzled why he had reacted so strongly. "Listen, I better go. Hide those. I'll come back with more later. Sorry I didn't bring more now, but I was too afraid that I wouldn't be able to keep three from showing."

"No, this is great."

Libby skipped out, feeling pleased from having done her good deed for the day.

\---+---

The day had started off so well.

Jack had awakened at first light, alert and eager to get started. Chen was on watch, and he wandered back from the rock he was leaning against when he heard someone else stirring. He was bundled up with a fur hood that reminded Jack a little too much of the kid from _South Park_.

But it was chilly in the pre-dawn hours, and Jack wouldn't have minded a hood of his own. He pulled down the knit cap over his ears, grateful he had that much. Good thing he'd already decided to skip shaving today. Cold water shaving, especially with the dubious blade found in Major O'Neill's pack, was not his idea of a good time. But they'd all decided collectively that growing out some stubble would help conceal some of the differences between himself and his twin.

After greeting Chen, tending to morning business, and drinking half a cup of coffee, he'd felt ready to face the day. "Okay, campers, rise and shine," he ordered. "Let's be about our business. We've got some friends to rescue."

Teal'c unfolded his blanket and stood up, as if he'd been wide awake and just waiting for Jack's announcement. But Kawalsky moaned and attempted to pull his sleeping bag across his face, but Jack was wise to that old trick. "C'mon, Kawalsky. Wakey, wakey."

"What'd I do to deserve _**two**_ of you?" he groaned.

"Hate to break it to you, old buddy, there's way more than just two," Jack told him cheerfully. "And one of 'em is only fourteen."

That got Kawalsky's attention. He pulled down the sleeping bag to look up with an incredulous expression. "What?"

"Long story. Involving little gray aliens with _**way**_ too much time on their hands." Jack held out his hand and when Kawalsky automatically took it, Jack hauled him upright. "And if you think it's weird having another version of me running around, imagine how I felt to look at the teen-age version of me. Again." He shook his head, remembering. That had been beyond weird. Worse than his robot double, since his own personal Mini-Me was living in the same city.

Kawalsky was very still for a moment, just looking at him, and Jack wondered if he'd gone too far. But then, ever-practical, level-headed Kawalsky came back from his little trip of amazement. "You have a strange life, O'Neill."

"No kidding."

They'd eaten breakfast as the sun rose. He and Kawalsky had started running through the timeline, with some prompting by the other two. Then Teal'c and Chen had started to question them about the stories, and Jack had found new appreciation for Lee Chen's talents. The reason he'd been made head of security in Thunder Mountain, despite being a spy, became obvious. He'd had real training, and he was also a naturally suspicious bastard. More so than Teal'c, his questions had dug out places where they had to keep their story straight.

He also pointed out a flaw of their plan early on in the quizzing. "Make sure you don't match perfectly," Chen said. "Nobody sees the same thing the same way. People forget. If it's too exact, especially if you're questioned separately, Simmons is gonna know you memorized it."

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "All right." He shared a glance with Kawalsky. "A little creative license then. Y'know, how it was me who fired first at the bad guys who took the car? Maybe you should fire first in your version. We both wanna look like heroes, after all."

Kawalsky gave him a look of mock surprise. "Well, of course, I fired first. Everyone knows how damn _**slow**_ you are, O'Neill."

Jack decided not to shoot him. There was always later.

They packed their two packs carefully, making sure there was nothing in there they couldn't have acquired on the road, and certainly nothing from Thunder Mountain. Except for one radio, to keep himself in touch with Teal'c at base camp, but he was going to get rid of it at the first sign of trouble, or before entering Valhalla, whichever came first. They planned to pick up another inside, and Jack knew Teal'c would faithfully monitor the frequencies.

And they were off. It was just like old times, tromping through some deserted forest, keeping a wary eye out for enemy patrols. Except that here Kawalsky had been equal rank for eight years, since 'his' O'Neill had stayed stuck at major, so it was Kawalsky without the edge of deference O'Neill had been accustomed to. They swapped some war stories, and Jack discovered that he had participated in a few of the same missions, but the outcomes were rarely the same. East Germany in '82 had been a disaster in his universe, but not so here. But the opposite for Nicaragua in '86. But both O'Neills had wound up in the Pentagon at a desk after a 'chute accident in Iran right before the Big Death, which was weird.

But all these stories pointed to the fact that O'Neill hadn't been promoted since the Big Death. If there weren't any promotions for anyone, that'd be okay, but Kawalsky had gone up two grades. "So, tell me, Kawalsky, how come you got promoted and not me? I can't believe you're less of a pain in the ass."

Kawalsky chuckled with a surprisingly bitter edge. "You'd think so. But that's not quite the way it worked. Not in the beginning."

Jack shot him a look and then had to quickly duck a tree branch before he ran into it with his face. "Do tell."

Kawalsky heaved a sigh and hiked for a while in silence, before spilling the story. "During the Big Death, nobody could keep up with who was president, as they all keeled over across the country. Pegasus ended up with the most civilians, three senators and four congresspeople, but a whole lot more military. Waverly was a one-star at the Big Death, not the three he's got now. The top dog at Pegasus was Major General Braddock. He kept it together for a short while, but he died. Afterward… well, let's just say it wasn't real pretty. Waverly saw his chance and took it. Simmons backed him."

Jack wrinkled his nose, able to figure out that scenario pretty quickly. If Simmons was as shady back then, he probably had his fingers on all sorts of material to put his man in charge. Of all the doubles in this universe, he was surprised by Simmons the least. He'd asked if there was also a Harry Maybourne in Valhalla Sector, but at least that fear hadn't come true.

"And me… well, Waverly wasn't so bad back then. Or maybe I was just an idiot," Kawalsky shrugged. "I thought he'd keep Simmons on a leash. And he did hold elections like he promised, so at first it seemed okay."

Jack nodded. "Waverly promoted you to reward your support. I get it." He got it -- but he was shocked, nonetheless. That sort of thing belonged to military dictatorships in banana republics, not 21st century Virginia. But the US after the virus was a lot closer to one of those countries these days, so it made a sad sort of sense.

"Yeah." Kawalsky shrugged again. "Later, he turned into an egomaniac, the president let himself be Waverly's puppet, and I joined up with Jack again to get out of there as much as I could."

"Makes sense. So why the hell are you going back?" Jack asked. "You don't know Daniel, you don't know Markus, but you're still going back into that cesspool?"

Kawalsky snorted. "It does sound stupid when you put it that way."

"But?" O'Neill prompted, pausing to take a breather and a bit of water from the canteen he was carrying. He liked to think of himself as being in good shape for a man half his age, but he realized he was spoiled by too much hanging around the SGC lately.

Kawalsky leaned against the tree opposite him and took a drink from the offered canteen too, before answering. "I did meet him. Markus I mean. Interesting guy."

"Yeah," Jack had to agree with that one. It wasn't everyday that you met someone who was not only a certified genius on par with Carter and the leader of a movement to re-unite and civilize the country again after total devastation, but also might have a special place in God's plan. "He kind of sucks you in, doesn't he?" Jack asked idly. "All polite and quiet, but then before you know it…"

Kawalsky nodded and added, feelingly, "All that **conviction**. It comes down like an avalanche. I haven't met many people like that. Everyone's so busy worrying about themselves they barely spare a thought for anybody else. And then here he comes with this idea to knit everything back together… it's… " Kawalsky struggled to find the right word and finally gave up, straightening. "It's amazing, is what it is. And if Simmons isn't sticking him full of pins or something worse right now, it'll be a damn miracle. Come on, let's keep going. We should make the main gate by mid-afternoon."

They paused around noon again for a quick lunch break. The sun was high overhead, slipping through the tall pines and shrubs that grew among the rocks. Early spring grass was coming up and tentative flowers were just starting to open in the southern facing slopes. A little creek burbled nearby. Birds were busy above, squawking at the humans who had dared to enter their territory, and after a little while of silence, Jack caught the sound of some small squirrel-type animal scampering around in the branches. It was very peaceful.

Jack perched on a rock and munched his military-grade peanut butter and pear sandwich, thinking about Valhalla Sector, Seth, and Thunder Mountain and the inevitable confrontation between all three. A military dictatorship on one side and a group of religious fanatics on the other, and Markus and his allies trying to find a path down the middle. Not a cozy place to be.

An odd thought struck suddenly. Smith had said their coming had thrown things out of whack -- so what was "supposed" to happen? How had SG-1 changed things, apparently for the worse? He thought things were pretty good. SG-1 had military expertise and Go'auld know-how to give to Thunder Mountain, which they hadn't had before. And hadn't SG-1 found out about Lee, thus forcing Lee to straighten out his priorities? How was that bad?

He shrugged a little and pushed the thoughts away. They didn't matter. He would've gone on the mission even without Smith telling him he had to, anyway. Even if Markus hadn't been there, he would've gone for Daniel.

"I think, if we follow this," Kawalsky broke the quiet, with a nod toward the creek. "It goes into the Sorgasa River. Once we hit the river and cross it, we're no more than five miles away from the front door. I know the land on the other side of the river pretty well -- but we'll have to watch for patrols."

Jack nodded. "Nobody comes out this way, though?"

Kawalsky shook his head. "Not on any patrol schedule I've ever seen. But then, we're practically circled by the interstate, which they do patrol, so they probably figure no one's going to bother coming this way."

"Except us." Jack stuffed the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and brushed his hands on his pants. "Ready?"

Kawalsky nodded and tagged along behind, as Jack crossed the creek on a few rocks and began to follow it downstream.

Not quite an hour later, he noticed that the trees started thinning out even more and the ground became rockier. He had to turn away from the little creek when it dropped into a narrow channel and, figuring that the river must be close anyway, started straight northward.

Ahead he saw that the trees ended, indicating some kind of clearing and he approached cautiously. But when he saw what the clearing actually was, he could only stare at first. Damn. This was bad.

He called, "Kawalsky? Didn't you tell me that the river would be pretty easy to cross?"

From behind him, Kawalsky said, "Yeah. We'll get wet, but nothing we can't handle."

Jack beckoned him forward. "Come here, Major. Tell me exactly how we're going to handle _**this**_!"

Kawalsky stepped up beside him and Jack had the satisfaction of hearing his low, soft, "Shit."

Jack gestured expansively. "Now, I don't know about boot camp in **your** world, Kawalsky, but in mine, they told us we should avoid trying to cross **canyons**. This is a big, honkin' canyon."

It was no exaggeration. The Sorgosa River was at least five hundred feet straight down, at the bottom of a steep-sided rocky ravine. The opposite rim was tantalizingly close, maybe one hundred meters, close enough to count the trees, but out of reach.

"We're here," he pointed at his feet. "Valhalla Sector is over there," he pointed across the ravine. "This is a problem."

"Shit," Kawalsky repeated. "I had no idea this was here. I've always crossed about ten miles thataway," he waved vaguely westward and then folded his arms. "Well, that explains why they don't patrol here, doesn't it?"

"Ya think?" Jack heaved a sigh. Nothing to do about it now. But it demonstrated the value of good maps when hiking around in the woods. He edged closer and looked down and to either side, looking for an easier way down. But only a mountain goat wouldn't find that cliff face tough. He stepped back. "We have two ropes, but no other climbing gear. I don't care for our chances of making it down in one piece."

Kawalsky leaned out to peer down to the bottom. "Not to mention the water looks fast and rough down there anyway. We'd probably drown. We'll have to find a better place to cross."

"Yeah. I figured that out all by myself," Jack muttered. He glanced across again, narrowing his eyes. This sucked. Valhalla Sector was only about five miles straight across. If only he could fly… But short of growing wings, his other option was going back to the helicopter and that was too far away. "We go around. And hope this doesn't come back to haunt us. Or our friends."

He turned away and started off again. But he couldn't help thinking that time was starting to get short. They were unlikely to find a way across before sunset, which meant they couldn't get in Valhalla Sector until tomorrow. This was Markus and Daniel's third day there already, and Jack knew the longer it took, the worse shape they were gonna be in.


	21. Chapter 21

Four and one half paces across. Turn. Four and one-half paces. That was all the pacing room Daniel had, as he went back and forth across the front of the cell.

Bored. Boredom. Boring. Probably from Middle German _bord_, a board, something flat and dull. But it would be more interesting if it were sourced in the same root as bordello…

A soft voice broke into his linguistic musing. "The phrase 'tiger in a cage' springs to mind."

Daniel turned, smiling. "Good morning. Or afternoon, maybe. How are you feeling?"

Markus reached up to rub his face and then his hair with a grimace. "Scruffy. I'd love to have a shower and brush my teeth."

"Me too. But that wasn't really my question." Daniel folded his arms and just regarded him for a moment. "You know what I was asking." He thought he knew the answer to it anyway. There was a pinched, pallid look around his mouth and eyes that spoke volumes of continued pain, despite the attempt at distraction.

"I think every single bruise stiffened up while I was asleep," Markus admitted after a moment. "Most of it'll work out once I move, I hope. But my head is killing me. That's what woke me up. I don't suppose Gordon brought more of those pills?"

Daniel lifted his eyebrows in surprise that Markus was actually asking for them. Unexpected and probably not a good sign.

Markus must have seen the worry, but misinterpreted its cause. He rushed to lie to him, "It's not that bad, Daniel. If you don't have any, it's fine."

"No, I'm sorry," Daniel stepped forward fishing in his pocket. "I have some. The doctor didn't come, but Libby did. She brought these." He held up the handkerchief with the dozen pills and plucked out the three for Markus to take now.

He helped Markus sit up against the wall. He didn't comment on how Markus muffled a cough on his sleeve once he was upright, nor that he had to hold onto his chest afterward until the color came back into his face. Daniel helped him hold the water cup to drink too.

Daniel helped, as matter-of-factly as he could, glad that he could be there. Then, when Markus was settled again and resting, he snaked a hand under the cot and grabbed one of the jars from where it was hidden behind the draping blanket. "The pills weren't all she brought either. Here, take a look. Applesauce."

Markus looked at the glass jar and his lips tightened, before he glanced away, admitting, "I don't think I can keep it down."

"Just try a little." Daniel unscrewed the jar, popping the seal. He sniffed with appreciation as the distinctive aroma of cinnamon filled the small space. "It smells good, doesn't it? You don't even have to swallow it, if you don't want -- just think of it as toothpaste." He offered the spoon with a small bit of applesauce on the end and was relieved when Markus took the spoon.

"Toothpaste? That's sort of disgusting, Daniel," he said, but put it in his mouth anyway. He swallowed and, promptly held out the spoon to Daniel. "You're right. It's good. More, please."

With Daniel's help, he managed to eat about half the jar. The food plus the pills obviously helped him feel better, and Daniel was glad to see him stand and gingerly try to loosen up. Even after he'd sat back down to rest, he stayed alert, keeping Daniel company.

That let Daniel ask a question he'd been curious about for awhile. "After we get out of here, what do you want to do? Are you going to try a meeting like St. Louis again?"

Markus nodded. "Of course. But I think I'll bring everyone to Thunder Mountain next time." He made a wry face. "A little safer that way. Of course, that's only if they dig out that damn spy first."

"They will. So… once you've got your constitution, what then? You gonna run for president?" Daniel asked.

Markus shook his head once, then thought better of the motion, wincing. "No, probably not. Better just to set it up and step away, don't you think?"

It was a nice thought, but even given the little Daniel knew, he doubted that was going to happen. Markus liked knowing what was going on too much to walk away. Daniel chuckled. "I think it would drive you nuts to watch someone else do things you know you could do better."

"That's what Meaghan says," Markus agreed, with a small, but bright smile at the thought of her. It was the first genuine smile Daniel had seen on Markus' face for days. "She's probably right. She usually is. But… I've been in charge a long time, Daniel," he added more wearily, leaning back. "And honestly, sometimes I get so sick of people looking to me for the answers all the time. Looking to me to _choose_. Like I have some special knowledge or tablets from God or something. But I don't."

"Sounds like what you need is a vacation, Markus," Daniel pointed out, only half-kidding.

Markus snorted lightly and looked around the cell. "This place is somewhat lacking in sun, sand and drinks with little umbrellas, but I guess it'll have to do."

"Being a prisoner doesn't count."

"Well, when we're out of here, I'll hop the first flight to Tahiti."

"Ha ha," Daniel said, making a face at Markus' sarcasm. "Just go fishing a few days or something. Decompress once in awhile. That's all I'm saying."

Markus seemed to accept the suggestion, with a small nod. "Maybe once things have settled down. I did invite Jack -- the major -- to go fishing with me. I've never done it, but maybe he'd be willing to teach me."

"I'm sure -- " Daniel started and broke off when the hall door opened. Markus twitched, then straightened with a careful breath, watching the front of the cell with poorly hidden anxiety.

But Daniel heard a cheerful, familiar voice, "Here, let me help you, Kenny. I've got the tray, you get the door."

Momentarily, Libby reappeared, carrying Daniel's lunch tray, trailing the nicer, young soldier from yesterday morning. "Oh, you're up! Wonderful!" she exclaimed seeing Markus sitting upright. "You look like you're feeling better." Without waiting for a response, she turned to the sergeant. "But there's only enough on here for one. Isn't there another tray you can go get?" she asked, fixing her big, dark eyes on Thomason.

He shifted his feet, "No, ma'am. This is all. Mister Alexander isn't allowed food."

Her mouth opened in surprise and she blinked in stunned shock. It was a convincing display of acting, Daniel thought, when she knew perfectly well he was restricted from food. "But -- but that's just horrible," she said. "How's he supposed to answer any questions if he's delirious with hunger? Honestly, what are they thinking up there on the second floor?" she rolled her eyes and then smiled at Thomason. "But you could do me just one tiny favor, couldn't you, Kenny?"

"What is it?" he asked warily.

"Just find something else to do for a little while," she murmured, trailing her hand down his arm. "I think it's awful the general's being so mean. I'd be very grateful…"

He swallowed hard, and his eyes darted from Libby to Markus and back. "I really shouldn't -- "

"Just for a few minutes," she coaxed. "I'll watch them, I promise. And if you don't tell, I won't tell, and nobody ever need to know."

He nodded jerkily. "You're right," he agreed. "It won't do no harm. I've got a sudden urge to take a leak."

He smiled at her, and she gave him a smile back. The smile lasted until he was gone and the door closed. She turned back toward the cell and swung a knit purse-like bag off her shoulder. "Here, I brought two more. Plus Gordon said to tell you he can't come until this evening. Simmons put watchers on him, so he can't come while he's supposed to be working. I don't know when I'll be able to come back either. This place is stuffed with troops now that they've come back, and they're not all as easy to deal with as Kenny."

Daniel stood to take the two jars of applesauce from her and hid them under the blankets at the end of the cot.

"Daniel, eat," Markus said, with a nod toward the tray on the floor.

Instead, Daniel picked up the plastic bowl of mac-n-cheese and a spoon and brought it to Markus. "Here. At least a few bites, while you can."

"Hurry," Libby urged. "He's only going to be gone a few minutes. Gordon and Devon also wanted me to tell you that with all the soldiers here, it's going to be difficult to get you out soon. The secret way out won't work if there's too many people around. So you have to be patient. Hold on and wait. But they **are** working on it."

"Good to know," Markus said. "Thank you."

She smiled at him. "My pleasure. You're turning into quite the local hero, Markus. I've overheard more than one person whispering that it wasn't right to be keeping you prisoner and hurting you. So don't be surprised if you get a parade by the time you leave here."

Markus made a wry face. "I'll settle for leaving." He took the spoon in his hand and started eating without complaint.

Daniel let Markus feed himself, though Daniel desperately wanted to shovel the food in him. He was being so slow about it. He ended up with only four bites, before Daniel heard a key in the lock at the outside door. Taking the bowl and the spoon back, Daniel plopped on the floor, with the bowl in his lap, by the time Thomason came into view.

"Wow, that was fast," Daniel looked up with mock amazement. "I've barely started."

"Hurry up," Thomason ordered, grumpily. "I've got to take it all back."

Daniel ate the rest, drank the cup of Tang, and pushed the tray back. "Thank you," he said more seriously to the guard. "Every little bit helps."

"Little bit of what?" Thomason asked and gave a little shrug, as he locked the slot and picked up the tray. "Come on, Libby. My ass is gonna be in trouble if they know I let you in here."

"And it's such a cute ass," she grinned. "We wouldn't want that." She gave a little wave to Daniel and Markus, and followed the sergeant out.

Daniel exchanged a look with Markus, only then noticing that the younger man had his arm across his stomach and a set, pale look on his face. "You're not going to throw up, are you?" he asked, concerned.

"Maybe," Markus answered, with worrying uncertainty. "I'm trying not to."

Daniel hovered anxiously, wondering what he could do. Then he sat down next to Markus on the cot. "Can I distract you?" he asked. "I could tell you the story of how the Tau'ri met the Tok'ra."

"Yes, Daniel. Please."

Faced with that urgent request, Daniel nodded. "Once upon a time…"

\---+---

Jack O'Neill rushed through the hall, eager to catch Jeremiah before he left.

The day had gone well, the people eager to learn from him--after Jeremiah had practically vouched that he was a good guy. But he'd gotten caught up, and now he was worried he might be too late. There were things about Millhaven that Jeremiah should know.

He rounded the corner, nearly knocking Terence down. The young man flashed him an angry look, but Jack was in too much of a hurry to care.

Jeremiah was in his room, shoving clothes into a bag.

"Hey, Jack. I was gonna come find you. I'm gonna need directions."

"That's why I'm here." He drew a map of the small town, outlining the different building, who lived there and where the power base was located. "Captain Davis is the local officer. Him you should avoid -- plus his men might know what you look like. However, this is where Wiley lives." And he put a little box on the western edge of the paper and surrounded it by little stick trees for forest.

"Wiley?" Jeremiah repeated.

"He's not from Valhalla; he lived in Millhaven when the military took it over a few years ago. He comes off as a kook, but he always knows what's going down. He's kind of into the whole conspiracy theory scenario. Go to him first; tell him you're a friend of mine."

Jeremiah stuffed the map into his pocket and shook Jack's hand. "Thanks for your help. Don't worry about the others now. Do your part and everything'll work out." He moved to the door and glanced back over his shoulder, "Don't let the spy kill you."

Jack nodded, when suddenly Terence's face flashed before his eyes. Terence who was so desperate to go to Millhaven with Jeremiah. Terence who had the physical characteristics of the man on the tape. Terence who had just looked at him with hate. "I'll be careful," he assured Jeremiah. "You be careful too. Remember what I said about the bounty on you. If they catch you, you'll get a free ticket straight to a cell right next to Markus."

"Yeah, yeah, "valuable", I get it," Jeremiah grunted in annoyance. "I'm outta here. See you."

Jeremiah left, but Jack followed more slowly. He now had something to think about, and maybe a trap to set. He wouldn't condemn Terence yet, but…

He had a feeling.

\---+---

As the afternoon wore on into the evening, Daniel started to get concerned. Markus dozed off, and when he woke he seemed oddly fixated on what day it was, asking Daniel three times in less than an hour. Daniel kept reassuring him that it was still Monday, and eventually Markus seemed to believe him. He wondered if the confusion was because of Markus' concussion, but wanted to ask Fukizaki.

But the Tok'ra didn't come. Nor did anyone come with dinner. Markus unwillingly choked down two spoonfuls of applesauce with his pain pills, and then told Daniel to eat the rest of the jar. Daniel kept waiting, but still no one came, so he did eat a little.

Something was happening outside. He only wished he knew what.

But he started to get a very bad feeling when the guards came -- Simmons' men -- and removed them both from the cell. Of course, none of the guards would say anything as they escorted them. They stayed on the fourth level, but went to the other main corridor and to a guarded door.

It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the inside, the room was so dimly lit. There was a table set up on a dais, with brass lamps casting the only light in the room down on to the surface of the table. There were three chairs there, currently empty, and two large flags on poles behind -- one was the American flag and Daniel had no idea what the other one was, maybe a military flag or the flag for Valhalla Sector. There were a few rows of chairs facing the dais, enough for an audience of twenty or so.

A second smaller table was set before the dais with two chairs. Daniel and Markus were taken to the chairs and their hands cuffed to the arms. After they were seated, another light turned on, a bright spotlight shining directly on to them, dazzling his eyes.

Another door opened and the sound of many booted feet entered, both in front of them and behind. If he squinted, he could just see the vague shapes of men taking the chairs behind the other table.

"I call this procedure to order." Waverly's voice filled the small room along with some rustling paper noises. "The trial of Markus Alexander and Daniel Jackson will now begin."

Daniel straightened. "Trial?" he demanded, dumbfounded. "This? Where's our counsel? What are the charges?"

"The prisoners will be silent, or they will be gagged," Waverly ordered. "This is a military tribunal -- no counsel is necessary. And as for charges… colonel?"

Simmons cleared his throat. "The charges against Markus Alexander are as follow: treason, sedition, terrorist acts, unlawful assembly, and conspiracy. He has gathered a group of like-minded traitors to plot the overthrow of this country and install himself as dictator. He has conspired to assassinate the president, and to keep the rest of the country hostage with his control over the Big Death virus."

Daniel cast a glance at Markus to see how he was taking this recital of his "crimes". Markus was listening, with only the faintest curl to his lips of either amusement or disgust.

Simmons continued. "And lastly, but certainly not least, he has illegally occupied property belonging to the United States, namely Cheyenne Mountain, taking control of advanced weapons to terrorize surrounding communities."

Markus snorted and said loudly, "You forgot my overdue library book."

That won him a few chuckles in the audience behind them. But Daniel could feel the chill from the ones behind the table and was not surprised when Waverly ordered, "Silence the traitor."

Markus struggled, but eventually the guards got him in a headlock and slapped a strip of heavy-duty tape across his mouth. He subsided, but still sat straight with his chin raised defiantly.

As soon as silence descended again, Simmons said, "Now, if I may continue? The charges against Daniel Jackson are sedition, illegal assembly, and treason. You see, Daniel, I believe you are his follower, despite the lie you tried to sell me. But for all that, we do take into account that you only recently came under his dominion and control, so your sentence will be commensurate with that fact."

Daniel opened his mouth to complain, but realized he'd rather save his words for when they might be necessary.

Waverly asked, "What say you to the charges, Colonel West?"

The name made Daniel sit up straight and try to squint in the light. Could it be? It was, he knew, when a familiar, slightly Southern accented voice answered, "I say guilty, General."

Daniel wanted to smirk -- how the mighty had fallen. His universe's General West had gotten stuck at colonel here, and certainly never been put in charge of the Stargate program. But West had still managed to get himself in a position of power, whatever his rank.

"Colonel Simmons?" Waverly asked.

The satisfaction was evident in Simmons' voice, as he answered, "Guilty."

"And I also declare both guilty on all charges." Waverly banged a gavel. "The vote is 3-0 for guilt. Colonel Simmons, if you will read the sentences."

Daniel couldn't keep quiet. "That's it?" he demanded. "Why are you wasting everyone's time with this ridiculous dog-and-pony show? This wasn't a trial, and it for damn sure wasn't fair. So what's the point?"

Simmons answered, "The _**point**_, Daniel, is that certain formalities must be observed. And there is no _**point**_ in a lengthy process when the outcome is not in question."

"It's not in question because you've already made up your mind!"

Waverly intervened, "He's right, we're wasting valuable time. Daniel Jackson, be silent, or you will be gagged. Simmons, the sentences."

"Yes, sir. Any of these charges alone carries a death sentence. For Daniel Jackson, it is decided that your execution will be lethal injection. It should be quick and relatively painless. And for Markus Alexander…" he trailed off and Daniel could feel his eagerness, coiled like a serpent ready to strike.

"Because he is unrepentant, and to use his death as an example to all those who might think of joining his rebellion, we have decided that his death will be neither quick nor painless. And since he considers himself something of a martyr to his cause, we decided to give him the death he deserves." He paused and everyone was silent, waiting for the announcement.

"He will be taken outside at sunset and bound to wood, which will be set alight. He will burn on that pyre until he is dead."

A shocked gasp came from the watchers. Daniel could only stare in utter shock.

He couldn't have heard properly. He could not have heard Simmons just say that they intended to burn Markus at the stake, like some sort of witch or latter-day Joan of Arc.

"You can't do that!" Daniel exclaimed, and his words nearly tripped over themselves, to get out before Waverly had him silenced. "That's not the rule of law. That's not American. It's not _**right**_! No --" he jerked to one side to avoid the guards trying to grab his head, yelling, "These men are drunk on their own power. Markus isn't a traitor -- he wants peace -- " He bit one of the men trying to gag him and managed to shout in the moment of freedom, "and justice!"

His lower jaw snapped shut with teeth-rattling force as someone struck him. The tape went across his mouth. No matter how he tried, he couldn't do anything but make inarticulate noises in protest.

"Order!" Waverly shouted and banged his gavel, above the noise of the crowd all whispering and talking among themselves. "Order!"

Waverly continued after silence fell slowly, "You may think this is somewhat extreme, but I assure you, it was a decision we did not come to lightly, only after due consideration. We believe the punishment fits the many crimes committed by this rebel and traitor, in his attempt to overthrow the legitimate government and install himself as a dictator over the United States of America. It is my earnest hope that it is the _**last**_ time such a sentence need be pronounced. The date of the sentences is not yet determined, but I will give an announcement when it approaches. Dismissed."

\---+---

Back in their cell, Daniel watched Markus with some concern, as the other man rubbed at his face where he had ripped off the tape.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked. "I'm not really cheerful about my sentence, but yours must have been worse."

Markus shrugged one shoulder a little, like he wasn't much bothered. "Like you said, it was a show. Partly for the audience's benefit, but mostly for mine. Simmons wants to have something to hold over my head when I go back to him, plus he can promise to get the sentence commuted to something less nasty if I cooperate. It's just a head game, Daniel."

Daniel frowned. "So you don't think they mean to do it?"

Markus gingerly lowered himself to one knee to fill the cup with water. "Oh, I think they do. But by that time I'll probably be glad. After all, Simmons is going to try to get his questions answered first." He sipped his water and glanced out into the empty hallway, frowning in thought. "I wonder though, if he didn't overplay his hand. I heard several people mutter as they left that Waverly had gone too far."

Daniel waited, but that seemed to be all that Markus intended to say.

"I can't believe how calm you are about this!" Daniel exclaimed, almost in accusation. But Markus was kneeling there, pondering how his death might possibly cause a coup d'etat in Valhalla Sector, and totally missing the point of what was happening. "They're threatening to burn you alive, Markus."

But Markus was not quite as calm as he looked. "What do you want from me, Daniel?" Markus flared, as buried anger flashed to the surface. "Am I supposed to fall into a panic, just because Simmons thought of an awful way to kill me? Don't you think I knew the minute those men showed up in St. Louis what was going to happen?" He climbed to his feet and faced Daniel. "Shit, I knew when I left Thunder Mountain what could happen. And you know what? I made that choice. I don't particularly _**want**_ to die, and not that way, but I've watched death. I've seen it, up close and very personal. And I've lived with that memory every goddamn day of my life since. I'm not afraid of dying. Only of dying for _**nothing**_!"

A series of coughs racked his body, which he tried to muffle in his arm, yet his eyes still blazed when he looked up again.

Daniel waited until he seemed recovered then crossed his arms, hearing something he definitely didn't like. "So, then you're actually kind of glad that they picked something dramatic, aren't you? This way, the story gets to spread and eventually the legend of Saint Markus will spring up, and inspire everyone to overthrow Valhalla Sector. Is that the plan?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Markus sat down on the cot and returned Daniel's look with one of his own, equally mocking. "Isn't this academic, anyway? Our friend's going to help us escape, isn't he? Oh, but too bad this base is crawling with soldiers and our friend has gotten the brass suspicious of him so he can hardly move without being watched." His eyes narrowed and his voice flattened to something chilly and tightly controlled, "And in the meantime, Colonel Fucking Simmons is going to be hosting a little party in my honor in two days, when he's threatened me with days of rape and electric shock until I don't even know my own name. So I'm sorry, Daniel, that the thought of death really doesn't bother me as much as you think it should."

Daniel felt cold, and it was not because of Markus' hostility. "He said that?" he asked, more quietly.

Markus nodded, and then his anger slipped away like it had never been. "He was making the point that he doesn't have to hold back when he questions me again." His gaze dropped to his hands, which were nervously fiddling with the hem of his jacket, making tidy little accordion folds. "I don't want to go through that, Daniel," he admitted softly. "I would rather be dead. Is that so wrong?"

Daniel realized that underneath it all, Markus was afraid. Afraid he would talk, afraid he would break, and just plain afraid what the coming days might bring.

He sat next to Markus on the cot. "No, of course not. It's very understandable. But we do have hope, Markus. Malek's here with us, and I'm sure my team and all your people are doing everything they can to get to us."

Markus shook his head once, and wouldn't look at him, staying hunched against dark contemplations of the future. "But what if they take too long?" he whispered. "What if they can't? What if -- "

He didn't say any more, but Daniel knew what he almost asked: What if they carried out their threat to burn him alive?

"Then…" Daniel paused to consider. He thought about suggesting Ascension, since he believed Markus could achieve it. But he had the vague feeling that it wouldn't help him feel better, but something else might. "Then… Malek will end it, Markus. If he can't get you out, he won't let you die like that, I promise."

Markus didn't even ask if Daniel could make such a promise. He just let out a long breath of relief which turned into a shudder of pain. He reached across his body to hold his chest still. After a moment, he added softly, "If, by some chance, you get out and I don't, tell them…"

Daniel froze, not ready to hear any last messages, but Markus continued.

"Tell them I'm sorry. And tell Meaghan… " Markus stopped, looking off into the distance with a brief look of anguish. Then he shook his head once. "Never mind. She knows."

\---+---

Jack and Charlie waited in the forest beside the old interstate, screened by a wild tangle of berry bushes, as a convoy of three trucks passed by, heading south. Then they slowly crept out, watching both directions like wary rabbits, and started toward the bridge at a fast trot. There was no cover on the bridge at all, so they had to wait until their chance.

The paving was kept up reasonably well, Jack observed, with potholes filled in with cement and the road had enough traffic to keep vegetation from growing in the cracks. But the edges were crumbling, and eventually the forest was going to nibble away at the road and take it back.

The canyon wasn't as deep here as before, but still a difficult climb to go down to the water, cross it, and back up the other side. Jack had thought the risk of using the bridge was worth the time they could save.

But he felt very exposed as he stepped onto the old concrete of the span. The sky was clear blue with only a few scattered clouds, the late afternoon sun was bright, and anyone in a chopper could see them from miles away. They'd already seen one high in the air, but it was far and couldn't have seen them.

"Don't like this," Charlie muttered, hustling along with him. "This is a bad idea."

Fifty meters left, before cover on the other side.

Jack twisted to look behind him. The road climbed a low rise southward, meaning if anyone was coming from that direction they'd have a clear view of Jack and Charlie on the bridge, from half a mile away. No one was there yet, but Charlie was right -- this was a bad idea.

"Come on, let's get the hell into cover," Jack said and quickened his pace. Forty meters.

That was when he heard the distant thump of helicopter rotors. He glanced up, above the treeline, and saw the chopper rising in altitude.

Silently willing the pilot to look someplace else, Jack continued to hurry. The sound of the rotors grew louder -- it was heading this way.

Ten meters. He sprinted off the end of the bridge, heading for the brush that had grown up next to the road. But dead brambles hid a deep gully and he lost his footing. He tried to catch himself on the vegetation, but it all had prickly things on it. He swore, loudly, while falling and then again when he hit the ground.

"Jack!" Kawalsky shouted.

"Get down," Jack ordered. The helicopter was close now, the beat of its rotors now distinguishable, and he froze, unsure whether he'd ended up in cover or not, just knowing it was too late to move. Movement would attract attention that staying still might not. Hopefully the pilot and anyone else in the chopper wouldn't be looking for anything on the ground. _I am a patch of early spring grass. Nothing to see here,_ he thought, staring at his hand which had a long scratch on the palm from some thorny thing and a little gray burr still stuck in his finger. He wanted to pluck it out, but remained still. Damn roadside weeds.

The helicopter seemed to be smack overhead for the longest time. Had they seen him or Kawalsky? Were they getting out weapons to shoot them down? Or talking to the base about the two intruders?

But then the noise of the helicopter moved off and he raised his head to watch it head off into the setting sun.

"Jack, you okay?" Kawalsky moved first, tramping through the crunchy vegetation to get to him as he was slowly trying to get up.

"Yeah, yeah," he plucked out the offending prickly burr from his finger and then several more from his clothes. "Let's go find someplace to camp."

Kawalsky gave him a hand to his feet. "Y'know, we're not that far from the gate. Only five miles or so. We could just walk."

Jack shook his head. "No. They'd only throw us in a cell to wait for morning anyway. And I don't want to give anyone an excuse to "forget" about us. No, we'll go in the morning, early-ish, and make enough noise they'll have to deal with us."

Kawalsky shrugged. "Your call."

This close to Valhalla Sector they couldn't risk a fire, so it was a cold, cheerless camp they set up beneath some low-hanging pine boughs. They stretched a camo-blanket over the branches for shelter and sat beneath it, atop their bedrolls in a makeshift tent. Jack quickly scarfed the last of his cheese and dried berries, and introduced Kawalsky to the modern wonder of the mint chocolate chip protein bar.

But the satisfaction of seeing Kawalsky's face light up wore off as it got dark, and Jack's thoughts turned toward the past.

"I probably should have asked this before, but does he -- do I -- have family in Valhalla? I presume not or you would've said something …" he said, trailing off.

"No," Kawalsky answered after a moment. "You don't. His wife, Sara, died of the Big Death. There's been no one else, no one serious, anyway. And nobody right now."

Jack shut his eyes. So the other him had married Sara, too. That probably meant something else had happened as well. "And did he have a son, too?"

"Charlie," Kawalsky murmured. "After me. He died too. Sara called Jack to tell him she was infected and couldn't make it here. And honestly, I've wondered whether she infected herself on purpose, or at least didn't care anymore, because Charlie was already dead."

It was no more than he had expected, but it was still a blow. But then he realized that something didn't make sense. He frowned and shook his head. "I thought the virus didn't affect the kids."

"It didn't, at least not directly. But he was hit by a car. The driver might have had the virus, or was panicked and trying to run away, but the car drove right up on the sidewalk, where Charlie was playing outside." Charlie stopped and his voice choked up a little. He cleared his throat. "After Jack heard about it, he closed up like a clam. I don't think he said more than five words those first months we were in lockdown. The instant the doors opened he left to try to find them -- not winning himself any friends in the brass, I should add -- and he came back a month later. He didn't find them." After a little while, Kawalsky asked, "What about you? Your world didn't have the virus, so …"

"He still died," Jack said, holding his knees tightly with his hands. He tried to just say the words and not **see** it all again, but it was hard. "Sara and I got divorced in '97, not long after. He and I … I was gone a lot… he was mad at me, I told him to go inside… he found my sidearm in the drawer of the bedstand and -- and it went off."

"Oh." That was all Kawalsky said for a long time. "Somehow I guess I thought that since your world didn't have the Big Death, everything turned out better. But shit still happens, I guess."

"True enough. Let's get some sleep," Jack suggested. He didn't really want to keep thinking about how his life had gone wrong, whether here or his own. "We're going to have to be on our toes tomorrow."


	22. Chapter 22

**March 23 **

Jeremiah's curiosity about Millhaven was twisting into anger. How had he missed it? The closest he and Kurdy had come was Clarefield, but before, why hadn't he discovered the town?

After hiding the Rover, Jeremiah continued on foot. Wiley's home was about a mile away.

As Jeremiah walked on, his mind wouldn't let go of the idea that his father might have visited Millhaven. To have been that close pissed him off. Far better to always imagine his dad in some far corner of the country, the semi-mythical "Valhalla Sector", than to realize that father and son might have been less than thirty miles apart and never known it.

There was the cabin just as Jack had described. The front door was open. Did that mean Wiley was home, or did he have visitors? Jeremiah slipped around to the back and peered in through one of the windows. He could see one man, short, balding, and kind of geeky-looking. This had to be Wiley. The man was standing alongside a table reading a book and jotting down notes. His eyes darted with quick jerks from the book to his paper and then to the open door as if fearing interruption. It put Jeremiah's nerves on edge. He decided to wait and watch. There was a stack of wood almost six feet high, which seemed like an ideal place to hide behind for an hour or so, until it got dark. After turning, his first step snapped a stick. Shit.

"Who's there?" a frantic voice called out.

A face appeared at the window. Jeremiah didn't have time to disappear. The window flew open.

"What do you want? I have nothing you'd want to steal."

"Are you Wiley?" Jeremiah asked.

"Who wants to know? Who sent you?"

Jeremiah purposely didn't tell him his name. "Jack O'Neill told me--"

"O'Neill?" he asked with disbelief. "Where is he? Everyone is looking for him."

Deciding on the spur of the moment to tell him the truth, sort of, he responded, "I think he's at Valhalla, or at least heading that way. Kind of nervous to be around here, so he and Charlie went back home to answer to the brass in person."

"Fools, both of them," Wiley muttered. "You might as well come in. No sense screaming for everyone to hear." He looked anxiously back and forth before closing the window.

The cabin was stuffed. Jeremiah had to step over a pile of books right after he entered. Papers were scattered everywhere, covering every surface available. Books were on the floor as if perused and then carelessly discarded. Old newspapers were piled next to a file cabinet; each drawer opened to a different extent.

"What are you doing?" Jeremiah asked, shuffling a stack of yellow pads off a chair and sitting down.

"The Big Death," he answered as if Jeremiah was stupid. "You know it's going to come back and this time even worse than before."

"I've heard rumors," Jeremiah answered hesitantly, remembering Simon's dire warning before he died. "Valhalla's got--"

"That's just it," Wiley interrupted him again. "It's the vaccine that's causing all the problems. Waverly is so desperate to go around Devon that a satellite group of researchers in Oregon has produced something, but it doesn't protect, it kills." All his words ran together, as if he were afraid of not getting everything said.

"You know Devon?" Jeremiah asked, latching on to his father's name, hungry for any information.

"Know him--no. Know _**of**_ him--yes. He won't give them the real vaccine. Burners come and clean up the mistakes, but it may not be enough. Everyone's going to die this time."

Jeremiah felt the horror wash over him. He and Kurdy had seen these burners; had been in towns before the destruction, only to escape just in time. One of them could have become infected. But his dad could stop it, if they could only rescue him from Valhalla. Then he would be able to come to Thunder Mountain and make the real vaccine. He felt the urgency to call Thunder Mountain and make sure this message got through to Jack, the first Jack. His Dad had to be rescued along with Markus and Daniel. "Did you hear about the meeting in St. Louis?" Jeremiah asked, remembering his mission here. Had to find the other prisoners, too.

"The one Markus Alexander organized? Another stupid fool."

"Markus? Why?" Jeremiah asked, surprised.

"He won't win. Waverly and Simmons control this country. He's worm food as soon as they squeeze him dry."

"What about the other people who went?" Jeremiah tried not to show how anxious he was for the answer.

"You mean the crowd at the school? Wouldn't surprise me if they become guinea pigs for the next clinical trials." His eyes grew wide as he ran with the idea. "Yep, give them the third generation concoction and see if they become sick. If they do--burn the whole school." He had a fanatical light to his eyes. Wiley sounded like a nut, seeing conspiracies everywhere. Yet, a lot of what he said was true; Jeremiah had seen it with his own eyes.

"What if it got loose from the school?" Jeremiah asked, hoping for a lead to its location.

Wiley turned startled eyes on him. "Loose? From the school? I hadn't thought of that." He immediately went to a closet and pulled out two backpacks. Without missing a beat, he stuffed papers, books and the newspapers inside one. "I'm not safe here," he muttered, emptying the first drawer to the filing cabinet into the second. "I'm the only one who knows enough to connect the dots," he added dumping the second drawer. "I'll have to leave…"

Jeremiah realized that the school, whatever that really was, had to be fairly close by. "How many miles away is the school?" Jeremiah asked.

Wiley stopped short and stared at him.

"You know," Jeremiah added, "so you know how much time you have to get everything moved."

"Good thinking. I'm a mile west of the town and the school is a half-mile south, so I'm less than a mile away. But I don't know if…" he paused, standing absolutely still for several seconds, then quickly dumped the third drawer. "I need to leave as soon as possible. They've already been here a few days."

Jeremiah backed slowly out of the cabin as Wiley continued to talk to himself as he packed. Once out the door, he took off running, not stopping until he came to the Rover. He had to call the Mountain and give them the news. The prisoners were here. He also needed to talk to Jack and find out if Valhalla would be stupid enough to infect the prisoners.

\---+---

Erin followed Sarah to the communications room, muttering to herself. "He'd better still be on the phone." This was the first time Jeremiah had checked in and she'd been getting worried.

"Hey?" she said into the receiver, not wanting to use Jeremiah's name, just in case.

"Yeah, Erin, I'm still here."

"You have something to report?" she asked eagerly.

"I know where the prisoners are being held. It's right here in Millhaven."

"I'll be damned," she exclaimed, shocked. "They transported the prisoners across country? Why?"

"My new crazy pal thinks it's to test a new vaccine, but I don't know if they're as nuts as he is. Ask Jack. Anyway, they're using an old school as the prison. I think you better tell the major to get his ass in gear and mobilize the Thunder Mountain Regulars. We've got a prison to break into."

"Copy that," she responded.

"I'm gonna head that way now and check out the layout. Inform Jack and I'll call back later on tonight. See if we can get a plan set in motion."

"Great work."

They signed off, and Erin sank into one of the chairs, sighing in relief. Something was going their way.

\---+---

Jeremiah once more hid the Rover as he attempted to reach the school by foot. Millhaven was nestled in a forested area, which made finding cover easy, but also allowed others to remain unobserved. So far, Jeremiah had avoided everyone, but eventually he'd have to become more visible.

He took out the binoculars and had them ready for when he came upon civilization. Several times Jeremiah stopped, thinking he heard a noise behind him, but each time his ears met with silence. Up ahead there was a bend in the road. Standing on the center line were two armed men standing guard. Must be the greeting committee. Since Jeremiah had no intention of doing the meet and greet thing, he circled around them, taking him pretty far out of the way, but enough to avoid the guards' notice.

Suddenly Jeremiah felt sure someone was staring at him. He stopped, taking a long look around, but couldn't detect anyone. Tiny shivers ran up his back, reminding him of the alien from Kansas and how that monster had given him the willies. He was feeling the same unease. Telling himself it was only paranoia, he continued.

A bird chirped and he jumped, snapping a twig. Jeremiah took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. This had to stop. In the past he had never jumped at shadows. He had nerves of steel, he reminded himself. How could meeting Seth have destroyed so much of his self-confidence?

After another five minutes of walking he came to a break in the trees and saw a building ahead. Poles originally belonging to a football field stood sentinel, over an overgrown field of weeds. The outlay reminded him of Seth's compound and his unease grew even more intense. With a shake of his head, he brought himself back to the problem at hand.

There was a road that ran in front of the school, and a crumbling parking lot. It seemed that breaking down the front door would be their best bet for entry. Leaning against a tree, he brought up the binoculars and perused front of the school. Armed guards stood against the wall, flanking the doors. Before he reported back to the Mountain he needed to know more about how many soldiers were stationed at the school and how often they made exchanges. Maybe once it was dark, he'd be able to creep closer and look into some of the windows or even break into the school.

Looking at the trees around him, he saw one that had a relatively easy branch to reach. Perhaps he'd climb up and sit there waiting for dark and observe the activity around the school.

A short while later, a truck drove up to the school and dropped off several men, both had graying hair. Jeremiah kept his binoculars trained on them. The guards stiffened and saluted the newcomers. They were inside for at least thirty minutes before coming out and departing.

The sun was setting when Jeremiah realized that he really needed to eat something. His stomach was complaining too loudly for safety. Erin had packed him a dinner and breakfast, since she didn't want him gone too long. Nothing much was happening other than a few changes of the guard, and a small truck he believed carried food. It might be a good time to check in, too.

Traveling back to the Rover was uneventful. He called in and told them he was sure Millhaven was guarding something inside the school, but he didn't have proof yet that it was the prisoners from the Big Meeting. He'd get that tonight. Fortified with food and water, he packed his pockets with some snacks and hung a canteen of water over his shoulders. Now he was ready for an all night stakeout.

Full dark made traveling a bit more difficult. As he came closer to the school, he suddenly heard voices very close by. Not sure if the darkness made the sound travel better or if they were truly that close, he stopped and listened.

Suddenly an arm reached out and grabbed him. He fought, but a hand covered his mouth with an iron grip, and pulled him down. "Be quiet," a voice whispered. "You'll give our position away."

Jeremiah ceased struggling against the man, but twisted so he could get a better look. A large blanket of unknown material, covered in pine tree branches and other natural debris was pulled over him and everything went dark. Just as Jeremiah was about to question this assailant, he heard footsteps crunching nearby.

"Don't move," the voice murmured in his ear.

The footsteps came closer and now he could hear people talking. "Did you get a look at that black chick hassling Captain Davis?"

"She's trouble alright; a real rebel rouser," a second man responded.

"She's convinced Thunder Mountain's gonna come to their rescue," the first chuckled.

"Think there's anyone left? From the number of civvies involved with the meeting, I'd think Markus had everyone with him."

There was a loud snort. "Just posturing. She was a leader at Clarefield but there was a coup and she was overthrown. I can't imagine it taking that town so long to get rid of her; she's a real pain in the ass."

The voices became softer and the footsteps died away.

After a few minutes of tense silence, the grip on Jeremiah released. "Are you from the mountain?" Jeremiah's benefactor asked, throwing off the blanket and standing.

The stranger was around Jeremiah's age and height, slim, with a narrow face and wide eyes that looked blue even by moonlight. Jeremiah stood, brushing off the dead leaves and dirt from his pants. "I am."

"Will you bring an army and free everyone in there?"

"Who the hell are you?" Jeremiah asked, not trusting despite the help. It could be a trick.

"My mate is in there. She went to the meeting curious about what Markus Alexander had to say-- what he stood for -- and was caught. I am but one man, with no weapons, and I cannot achieve her release," he answered.

Jeremiah looked into his guileless eyes and couldn't help believing him. "How long have you been staking out the place?"

"Since they arrived. I followed them."

Jeremiah was impressed. It would take a lot of devotion, not to mention skill, to follow a convoy of well-armed trucks all that way. "Your name?"

"I am called Martouf."

Jeremiah couldn't help snickering. "Martouf? What kind of name is that? Sounds like a dog. Mind if I call you Marty? Not quite as, uh, odd. So, if you've been here long, you got any intel on what's going on in there?"

"Plenty," Marty responded with a wide smile, guaranteed to charm.

\---+---

Martouf took Jeremiah to the little cave he had discovered and enlarged upon with his crystals. It had only the necessities, but enough to keep him warm during the cold nights. He was gratified to hear that the Mountain still had soldiers willing to mount a rescue. He had dreaded having to inform Garshaw of Jolinar's capture and the need for Tok'ra intervention.

His new ally, Jeremiah, was just the sort of man he had expected to find on this planet -- hard, self-sufficient, reluctant to trust, yet with a few soft edges to make him endearing. It was unlike the ones who came from Valhalla. Malek had said many were corrupt, like the Goa'uld, and interested only in power. Did this one seek power, only of a different variety, or perhaps served one who did?

"Have you met Markus Alexander?" Martouf asked, as he led Jeremiah into his warren.

"Sure," Jeremiah answered shortly, looking around at the cave and noting the small bag of supplies and pine branches spread with a blanket for the sleeping area. "Nice place. Cozy. You were lucky to find it."

It hadn't been luck, just good sensors on the tel'tak, but Martouf couldn't admit this to the Tau'ri.

Jeremiah picked a place on the floor and sat down. "So, what have you learned so far?"

Martouf joined him. "Much. The soldiers patrol the grounds around the school and the halls within. They all know each other, so it is not possible to replace one without the others knowing. The prisoners are fed regularly, despite a minimum of resources. I am afraid that when they begin to run low, a more drastic action will be taken."

"Like what?"

"Death. However, I do believe these people are being kept alive for a reason."

"A bargaining tool against Markus?" Jeremiah suggested.

"Perhaps. Or a back-up if he tells them nothing." Which, according to Malek, was more likely. Markus had said not one useful word to his captors, even while being persuaded in a manner a Goa'uld might envy.

'_And yet, the Goa'uld are as cruel as they are because of the sarcophagus,'_ Lantash reminded him. '_They need not be careful with their prisoners, as death is never an escape. But Malek worries that they will kill Markus, either through deliberate execution or carelessness if they do not escape soon.'_

Jeremiah drew his attention back, fidgeting with his jacket and frowning as he thought. "How many people do they have? What sort of resistance could we expect?"

"Between one hundred and one hundred fifty soldiers are stationed here." Actually, one hundred twenty-six, as of last count, but humans were always nervous about such precision. "Four armored vehicles. Several trucks and other regular vehicles. A multitude of weaponry. I don't know the names of it all."

"Me neither." Jeremiah nodded, not surprised by the list. "Aircraft?"

Martouf blinked and frowned at the unexpected question. How did Jeremiah know that aircraft were even possible? "I have heard one helicopter, but I believe it must have been delivering something, because it left again and has not returned."

"Good," Jeremiah murmured. He started tracing circles in the stone floor, deep in thought. "How many guard the school?"

"Six on the inside, and fourteen on the outside. And, as you heard, there is at least one Valhalla Sector informant within," Martouf recited, then paused to think of what else to add. With some prompting from Lantash, who had done this sort of thing more times than even he could remember, Martouf added, "From what I have overheard, the prisoners have been separated and housed within different rooms inside the school. They may be able to provide some sort of distraction, even overpower their guards within, if they know there is an attack underway outside."

Jeremiah snorted. "Yeah, if Theo's involved, you can _**bet**_ there'll be a distraction. She's not one for taking shit lying down, that much I can tell you."

Martouf smiled. "Nor is _**my**_ mate."

Jeremiah looked appalled and shuddered. "Theo is _**not**_ my mate. I don't even like her very much. She's a pain in the ass. How Markus puts up with her I've got no clue."

"Theo is his mate?" Martouf asked, now thoroughly confused. Especially when Jeremiah stared at him a moment, and then burst into hysterical laughter. Martouf shushed him, glancing anxiously at the cave mouth, and Jeremiah tried to stop, muffling his mouth with his hands and turning bright red.

'_I would presume not,' _Lantash said dryly, making Martouf smile.

"No, no, oh God no! Markus and Theo?" Jeremiah could hardly breathe. Each time he thought about it again sent him into another paroxysm. Finally he settled down, still occasionally chuckling. "No, Theo and Markus are definitely _**not**_ a couple. It's a long story what all happened and how they met, but at the end of it…" he shrugged, now serious once more, "she believed in him. Kinda despite herself I think, but she does. I can only imagine how furious she was when St. Louis got attacked and she was taken prisoner. When Theo is pissed about something, she lets the whole world know about it. I almost feel sorry for them."

There was a pause in the conversation, where Martouf tried to think of a diplomatic way to ask more about Thunder Mountain. Malek knew very little, except that it would be a preferred ally than Valhalla. However, from what little Jeremiah had said, he guarded the Mountain's secret. Where was it? Close by? All he knew was that it was "out west".

"I want to see a little more of what's going on," Jeremiah asked.

The request was reasonable to confirm what Martouf had told him. Martouf nodded. "I believe the best time would be around one tonight. The shifts change at midnight, and by one the new contingent is more relaxed. I suggest we get some sleep now, in order to be more alert."

Jeremiah looked concerned. "I don't know… I'd hate to sleep through it."

Martouf smiled. "That will not happen. I have a very accurate sense of time." Actually it was Lantash who had the sense of time, but close enough. "But if you are worried, we can stay awake and you can tell me about Thunder Mountain."

Jeremiah stiffened. "I am pretty tired. Maybe I should catch a nap." He shifted down and closed his eyes.

'_He is very loyal to Markus,_' Lantash said, '_I cannot fault that, even if it is inconvenient.' _Martouf leaned up against the wall and kept a silent vigil.

Jeremiah soon began shifting in his sleep. He let out a moan and began murmuring incoherently. Martouf turned worried eyes in his direction.

"No." Jeremiah's head rocked back and forth as if negating what ever was going through his mind. "No," he repeated a bit more loudly.

Martouf crawled over and gently tapped his shoulder. "Wake up."

'_He is very deep within his nightmare_,' Lantash commented_. 'You may need to shake him harder_. _We must not let anyone hear him and if he screams_…' The symbiote let the thought hang suggestively.

"Jeremiah, you must awaken," Martouf said more urgently.

"No! You are not my god!" Jeremiah's eyes flew open and he went to hit Martouf, who quickly backed away.

"You are having a bad dream," Martouf said gently. "You are safe here."

'_Did this young man come through the chappa'ai?' _ Lantash wondered silently to his host. '_It seems his dreams are about a Goa'uld_.'

"Right. Safe. In your cave waiting for…" Jeremiah paused, shaking his head. He sat up and folded his legs in a protective posture. "Sorry."

"Will you tell me your dream?" Martouf asked.

"Can't remember much," he replied, although it was obvious he was lying.

'_Should I mention the word Goa'uld first?'_ Martouf asked Lantash.

'_The word may mean nothing, but if it does, he may take offence, or be afraid of who we are. It is best if we remain silent on this matter until he reveals his mind_.'

Martouf agreed and instead offered, "Are you hungry? I have a little food."

"Um, no, not really," Jeremiah said, with a wave of his hand. "But don't let me stop you."

Martouf pulled out a bag of dried apples and berries, mixed with sunflower and pumpkin seeds, and poured out a handful to eat. Over their years of visiting the Tau'ri, they had grown somewhat addicted to sunflower seeds and planted a large field of them not far from the tunnels. He offered the mix to Jeremiah who took some with a murmured thanks.

To break the silence, Martouf said, "You mentioned that Theo believed in Markus, but I'm not sure I know what **he** believes. I have heard many things, some of them contradictory -- Valhalla Sector claims that he is a rebel, seeking to create a new country to rule for himself."

Jeremiah snorted. "Y'know, I'd think twice before I believed _**anything**_ Valhalla Sector said. But in this case, it's half-true. Markus is a rebel, I guess, since he opposes them. But they tried to kill him first, so it's not like he had a lot of choice. And he's certainly out to create a new country. That was the whole point of the meeting in St. Louis. But to rule himself… no. I've heard him talk about his plans for the future, and ruling the country isn't part of it." Jeremiah tapped his knees, frowning thoughtfully. "Actually I don't think I've heard him say _**what**_ he intends to do when everything's set up. I mean, he talks about elections and getting people re-connected, bringing civilization back, and all that. But nothing personal. Maybe he just doesn't know."

'_Or he understands that to accomplish all that will last his lifetime_,' Lantash said, somewhat sadly. '_It is a noble goal. But achieving it will be difficult given the harsh realities of life here.'_

'_But Malek was right,'_ Martouf added. '_The Tok'ra should assist Thunder Mountain. Markus Alexander seems definitely preferable to Valhalla Sector.'_

Jeremiah shook his head and gave a shrug. "Anyway, I'm not saying that we always see eye to eye, Markus and me, since we don't. I'm a little picture kind of a guy, and Markus -- well, he definitely sees the big picture."

"Little picture?" Martouf repeated, unsure of what Jeremiah meant by it.

Jeremiah almost smiled. "Markus wants to save the world. I just want to save my dad. He's a prisoner in Valhalla Sector."

"Who is your father?" Martouf didn't trust many of the men Malek had described to him and he hoped this young man was not related to one of them. How disappointing it would be for Jeremiah when he finally did meet his father to discover that he was not the man he imagined.

"Devon. He's a medical researcher. Have you been to Valhalla? Do you know the people there?"

Martouf's eyes widened. "Devon Samuels?" he asked incredulously. No wonder Jeremiah said his father was a prisoner. Malek had often spoken of Dr. Devon Samuels, the only human who knew how the virus really worked.

"You do know him?" Jeremiah accused.

"No," Martouf replied with sadness. "But I have overheard the soldiers mention him as well as Markus as prisoners there."

Jeremiah bent his head. "Yeah, I know. Sucks."

"I presume that your people are planning a rescue of some type of Markus. Will they also rescue your father?" Martouf asked delicately. Jeremiah just shrugged, not confirming that any such attempt was underway.

He lay down again. "I'm gonna try again to get some sleep."

'_Not surprising that he would refuse to tell us,'_ Lantash observed in disappointment, '_but unfortunately nothing we can report to Malek.'_

_'Perhaps he will grow to trust us and reveal more,'_ Martouf suggested.

Jeremiah had fallen asleep, and was snoring lightly, when Lantash suddenly twitched. '_The communications device. It is likely Malek.'_

Martouf crept to the entrance of the cave and around the corner to prevent his voice from carrying back inside. He separated the halves of the decorative locket and removed the device. "Martouf."

"_Malek," _came the answer, and with unaccustomed obvious anger he continued, "_Do you know what these evil men have done now? Waverly held a mockery of a trial and has declared Markus and Daniel guilty of a multitude of manufactured crimes and pronounced a death sentence for them both_."

Tentatively, uncertain why this was such a piece of news that needed to be communicated immediately, Martouf said, "Surely this was not entirely unexpected, my friend."

"_They declared that Markus will burn in __**fire**_. _Chuan was so infuriated by this that we confronted General Waverly about it three times, and now we are imprisoned in our quarters. I doubt we will regain his trust. We must all escape from this place soon, and yet we cannot think of a way. Waverly recalled the Eighth from D.C. and they are everywhere._"

Martouf was momentarily stunned by the utter cruelty of the proclaimed sentence. Even the Goa'uld rarely chose such a method of punishment, though not for lack of evil -- one who burned to death could rarely be revived in a sarcophagus and thus it was too permanent for most Goa'uld. But at Lantash's prompting, he said, "We have found a new ally, one from Thunder Mountain. I believe they intend to free the prisoners here."

"_That is good news. When will this attempt take place?"_

Martouf answered, "I don't know yet. Within a few days."

Lantash caught the sound of Jeremiah stirring and Martouf informed Malek, "I must go now. I will find out what I can."

He replaced the device in the necklace and returned within the cave. Jeremiah had settled again, and Martouf and Lantash sat to wait and mull over the information they had received.

\---+---

Jeremiah followed his new friend to scout the school again. Marty barely made a noise as he moved through the woods, despite the darkness, and Jeremiah tried hard to step where he stepped. But he still managed to step on dead leaves and snap twigs, until he had the impression he was making enough noise to wake the dead.

Marty glanced back after Jeremiah swore loudly after he stubbed his toe on a rock he hadn't seen. Jeremiah winced. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Be as quiet as possible. There are patrols," Marty warned.

Nevertheless they made it without incident. They went through a hole in the fence, where the chainlinks had been cut and pulled back long ago, hidden by an overgrown hedge. They squatted in the shadows of the hedge and stopped there. Any further and they risked being seen, since the whole school including the gym and most of the field was lit up brightly by the outdoor lights. Jeremiah wondered where they were getting the power, but like Thunder Mountain, figured they had people trained to do that sort of thing.

Marty pointed to the well-armed guards, who walked on a path around the school, as well as the fixed positions on the gym roof, including a large caliber machine gun. Just left of the main doors was a small side door through which Jeremiah could make out at least one additional guard. Were Theo and the others waiting on the other side?

He wanted to go peek in one of the first floor windows, but saw no way to get that close. Too far, too visible. If he crawled through the high weeds of the football field, he might be unseen, but that still left fifteen feet and more of empty pavement next to the gym itself. Then he'd have to scale the wall to the roof, to be able to see in the high windows -- way too difficult.

Glancing aside at Marty, he nodded, having seen his fill. "Let's take a look around town," he suggested in a whisper. Marty agreed with a nod and backed out of the hole in the fence.

Before following, Jeremiah glanced again at the school. He hoped Kurdy and Elizabeth were in there too, along with Theo. "Hold on, man. Just a little longer," he muttered. "We're coming."


	23. Chapter 23

**March 24**

_. . . The corridors of Thunder Mountain are silent and empty. The usual distant murmurs of voices and the hum of the systems are gone, leaving a desolate quiet._

_As he walks, he feels nervous and cold, dreading what he knows he will find. And, as he always does, he turns the corner to the corridor outside his office to find that the floor is covered with bodies._

_So many dead. So much blood._

_He tries to walk through without touching them, and without looking at empty eyes, but cold fingers still snag his pants and paint him with blood. And he can't help seeing their anguished faces. He can't stop himself from recognizing them. They're all people he knows. People who depend on him to keep them safe._

_Sarah. Simon. Elizabeth. Kurdy. Jeremiah. Andrew. Erin. Face after face. They all stare at him in accusation and blame. Because he knows this is his fault. They are all dead because of him. Because he made a mistake and they all died for it._

_And there, slumped against his door, as though she had tried to enter and find safety, is Meaghan, her face veiled by her hair._

_"Meaghan!" he kneels down and reaches out for her, hoping just for a moment that she is only sleeping. But she crumbles at his touch, turning to ash and dust right before his eyes. "No…!"_

"Markus! Markus, wake up!"

His eyes snapped open, though it took a moment more for awareness to kick in and remind him that he was not actually back home, surrounded by all his dead friends. No, he was stuck in the hell-hole of Valhalla Sector.

"You were having a nightmare," Daniel explained unnecessarily, and Markus turned his head to find his new friend.

"Yeah," Markus agreed, rubbing his gritty eyes. "I know. I've had it before. Is it morning?"

Daniel nodded, "I think so, but it's early. You seemed restless last night. How are you feeling?"

He was too tired to pretend, and it was hard to speak or swallow, his throat was so dry. "Like I didn't sleep at all. Do you have the water?"

"Sure. Here, let me help you sit up." Daniel pulled him up, which set off a sudden cramping pain in his side. He gasped, and couldn't let go of Daniel's arm, clutching it hard enough to leave bruises. "What is it?" Daniel asked, his eyes wide in concern. "Markus?"

Markus pressed against the wall, closing his eyes and taking careful, small breaths. He could feel the cold sweat form on his face as a wave of nausea joined in the deep throbbing in his left side. "Ribs," he managed to explain. "Something … maybe shifted. Damn, it hurts," he whispered, praying silently for it to stop. It had to stop.

"Do you want me to yell for the guards to get the doctor?" Daniel asked.

"No," Markus answered. After a few moments, the nausea settled and he opened his eyes. "There's nothing he can do, except tell me to stop moving around so much and take the pain pills."

"Well… all right, if you're sure." Daniel took out two more of the white pills and then filled the water cup and handed it to him. "Hopefully he'll be back. I'm wondering if he got in trouble yesterday, and that's why he hasn't come. Maybe Waverly got tired of him interfering."

Markus swallowed the pills and hoped they went to work quickly. He didn't really care what had happened to Fukizaki. Not when he felt as though he'd swallowed a hot coal, and it was burning a hole under his ribs. It was worse than the broken ribs, because those didn't hurt much if he was still. But this new thing wasn't stopping. "I don't know," he said finally, realizing belatedly that Daniel expected him to say something.

Daniel offered him more applesauce for breakfast, but he refused, feeling ill at the very thought of eating anything

He was really dreading having to get up and use the toilet. He put it off as long as he could, and then had to have Daniel's steadying hand when he nearly blacked out when he stood up. After he came back to the cot, it took several minutes for the light-headedness to pass.

"Markus," Daniel started quietly. "I'm worried. I thought you were better yesterday after you had some food. But now I'm wondering if there isn't something more wrong. You don't look well at all."

Markus had to chuckle at that observation, even though he didn't want to, knowing it would make his chest spike with pain. "Daniel, I've been hit on the head, starved, beaten up, and electrocuted. I think it's going to take more than a jar of applesauce to get me back to 'well'."

"Yes, I realize that," Daniel said, very patiently, as though Markus were being deliberately obtuse. "And I know dizziness is a symptom of a mild concussion, so that's not too alarming. But still, yesterday you seemed fairly stable, but today you seem worse. I'm going to tell Fukizaki, the next time he comes."

"_**If**_ he comes," Markus said.

But he did come about an hour later, after guards had brought in oatmeal for Daniel. The Tok'ra came in with two guards this time, and apparently he knew it would be futile to order them to leave, because he didn't even try. The guards locked him in the cell, but stayed outside watching.

"Good morning," Fukizaki greeted when he came in. "I apologize for being unable to visit." He glanced deliberately aside, indicating the guards. "Unfortunately General Waverly and I had several arguments yesterday, which grew quite heated until I was confined to my quarters. Simmons and West persuaded him that my attempting to win your confidence was foolish, and stronger measures had to be taken. Thus, you were subjected to last night's farce." Though his tone was only a little sharp, his eyes gave away his anger. "The general has also cancelled your reprieve from interrogation, Markus," he warned. "I fear he no longer listens to me."

Markus felt suddenly cold. He was going back into Simmons' hands. Daniel touched his shoulder and the little feeling of warmth and compassion helped. But it also made him realize how much he was depending on Daniel, and how much he feared either Daniel getting taken away or used against him.

Daniel said to Fukizaki, "At least you're here now. Markus seems worse this morning -- he was dizzy when he stood up, won't eat, and complained of more pain in his stomach."

Markus felt irritated at Daniel for saying something. It wasn't like the doctor - alien could **do** anything about it, especially if he had fallen out of favor. It seemed like a hassle for nothing, especially since the pills were making him feel generally better.

"Then, let me take a look. Has he been coughing more?" he asked Daniel.

"No, not really --" Daniel started.

"Right here," Markus said, waving his good hand to get their attention. "I'm not invisible. You can ask me."

Fukizaki gave a look, with a hint of a smile. "But you will not tell me the truth, I suspect. Lie down and let me examine you."

Markus gave in, knowing it would be stupid to refuse. Yet he felt oddly self-conscious, looking up into the dark eyes and knowing there was an alien intelligence in there. It was even stranger knowing it was an alien intelligence that some other Markus Alexander in a different plane of existence had taken into his own brain.

But alien or not, his fingers were deft and gentle as he first took his pulse and pressed down on his arm to estimate his blood pressure. Then he lightly probed around on Markus' left side. The expected touch on his ribs made him flinch at the stabbing pain. Fukizaki apologized, "Forgive me, I had to make sure there was no separation." Then his touch moved lower.

Markus didn't feel anything different, just the same medicine-dulled ache, but Fukizaki frowned. His fingers palpitated all around Markus' upper abdomen, once deep enough to make him gasp and try to shove himself away. "What -- what are you -- "

Fukizaki rocked back on his heels, as he absently rezipped the jacket and tucked a blanket around his chest. "Do you have a pain somewhat behind or within your lower ribs, separate from the feel of the broken ribs themselves?" he asked.

Markus nodded once. "I didn't really notice it until this morning. But yeah, a sort of burning inside here," he put his hand right above the spot.

Fukizaki's expression was grave. "Yes, I thought as much. I believe that you are bleeding internally. There is definite interior irritation tightening the abdominal muscles. Very possibly your spleen either ruptured or one of its carrying veins was torn when you were beaten. Though the injury must be relatively small or somehow self-limiting, keeping you alive, it will worsen unless treated."

Markus heard the words but they seemed to be floating right past him. His voice came out seemingly without his mind's input, asking calmly, "Treated how?"

"In this place, only surgically."

Daniel asked hesitantly, "You don't have a, um, different device? One that fits in the hand maybe?"

Fukizai shot him a reproving look. "I have none of those things in here, Daniel."

"Oh, of course. So what happens?" Daniel asked. "Surgery?"

Fukizaki didn't answer right away, only looked down at Markus. And Markus knew the answer was no. Valhalla Sector's leaders had already declared that he was going to die, why would they waste precious medical resources trying to keep him alive?

He saw that Markus understood. "I am sorry."

"But what are you -- " Daniel objected and then realized the same thing, snapping his mouth shut. "Oh."

"Do not give up hope," Fukizaki advised and patted his hand once. "This adds urgency but not despair. For now, move as little as possible, drink small sips of water only, and keep your feet elevated. I must speak to others about this. I will return soon."

He took his leave, and as soon as the main door was closed, Daniel came closer, his arms tucked around himself. He said, "This is awful, Markus. We have to get out of here. If he has access to a healing device outside -- "

"Daniel." Markus tried to cut him off, but Daniel kept going, not listening to him at all.

"The Tok'ra are good at using it, as long as the injury's not too bad. It heals things up almost instantly, with not even a scar. I'm sure he's got one stashed not too far -- "

"Daniel! Please!" Finally, that silenced Daniel, who looked at him with wide eyes as though hurt that Markus had wanted him to be quiet. "I know you mean well," Markus assured him, "and I'm grateful. Really. But please, I just need some time to think."

"Oh, right. I'm sorry. If you want to talk, I'm here."

Markus nodded. "I know. Thank you."

He closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the flickering lights. He felt it -- the deep sharp ache of the injury that was going to kill him.

Though he wanted to believe that the Tok'ra could get him out and use his alien technology to save him, it seemed unlikely. Denying reality never helped anything, and he would much rather face his last days head-on. Markus was no medical doctor, but he knew enough, having learned the basics in the early days of Thunder Mountain. He was lucky to have survived this long. It suggested the blood was pooling in his abdomen through a slow leak or a small tear, but the end result would be the same.

A few days more at most, and he would die.

He smiled -- a brief flicker that no doubt would confuse Daniel if he caught it. But Markus was satisfied. Mission accomplished. After all of Simmons' manueverings and threats, his prey was going to slip right through his fingers because of his carelessness.

Valhalla Sector would never find out any of his secrets. Let Simmons do whatever he wanted to him, it no longer mattered.

When the guards came later to bring him to Simmons, he was not afraid.

\---+---

Valhalla Sector was in sight, or at least the hill that it was under was. Jack crouched in the ditch next to the road, observing with his binoculars. Charlie was beside him, plucking the heads off all the spring dandelions near his boots.

They'd already made their plan, now all they had to do was put it in motion. Jack had heard from Teal'c early this morning that Jeremiah had discovered the location of the other prisoners. It was a place in Colorado, and Teal'c had relayed the news that Erin and the other Jack were planning a mission to go in after them. So Jack had moved up his timetable.

They were all on a clock now. There might be retribution or harsh interrogation of the only two prisoners left in custody once the others were rescued. Jack mostly worried about Daniel -- Valhalla sector had no particular reason to keep him alive.

So now he and Kawalsky were in position. Jack radioed Teal'c to give him the heads up that they were going in and then ditched the radio in the underbrush. He felt momentarily naked, knowing he'd just dumped his only way of calling for backup. But it had to be done. So now they waited.

Finally a likely candidate appeared, as one of the jeep patrols headed out. It had only two men: one driver, and one man manning the gun in the back.

He exchanged a glance with Charlie, who nodded. Kawalsky held out a fist, and Jack touched it with his own for luck, before he took a deep breath and shot both front tires out.

The driver struggled to keep control as the jeep fishtailed wildly. The guy in the back could only hold on to his gun, so he wouldn't get thrown. The jeep screeched to a stop eventually, about twenty feet away, but Jack and Charlie were already out on the road, guns drawn and obvious.

"Don't do it," he advised the one in back who had just started to target them. "I've got a clear shot and I will blow your head off."

The driver got a good look at them and his eyes bugged out. "Major O'Neill? Major Kawalsky? Sir, what the hell's going on?"

"You tell me, Sergeant Williams," Kawalsky growled with dark menace in his voice. "Our own guys were shooting at _**us**_ back west. Who's in charge inside?"

"General Waverly," Williams answered, clearly puzzled by the question.

"You sure about that?" O'Neill asked.

"It's the same it's always been," the other guy confirmed. Then he seemed to get struck by the idea of what they were saying. "You thought there was a coup inside?"

"Clearly not," O'Neill said. He lowered his gun and shared a look with Kawalsky. "Must've been a local thing, then. See, I was right."

Kawalsky ignored the pretended dig. "We gotta get inside, then, and tell Waverly there's a problem at Millhaven. Come on."

He started off, and Jack glanced at the other two, "Sorry about your truck. We just wanted to be sure. You might as well come with us -- you'll need new tires."

He and Kawalsky would also need confirmation of their story of what they'd done and asked, but he certainly wasn't going to tell them that.

By the time they got through the guards at the outer doors, they were met at the inner doors by Waverly himself. If the stars on his Army uniform weren't enough to give his identity away, the very careful respect of the other guards and officers sure did. Waverly ordered the various alarms off and took a moment to look at O'Neill and Kawalsky.

"Well, well, the prodigals return," he drawled.

Kawalsky saluted, and Jack decided he'd better too, though it made his skin crawl, showing respect to an officer who had built himself a little fiefdom. Impatiently Waverly said, "At ease. What are you two doing here?"

"We came to report that something's going down in Millhaven, sir," Kawalsky said in a rush. "When we returned from the wild goose chase that Chen sent us on, our own guys at Millhaven shot at us, sir. I think Chen's turned, and he's either taken over Millhaven on his own or he's fallen in with Thunder Mountain."

Jack just nodded when Waverly glanced at him. Lee had been almost gleeful to make himself the villain of the piece. There was certainly no love lost there.

"So, you think Lee Chen is a traitor?" Waverly asked, not nearly as surprised by this announcement as he should have been.

"When we were in Millhaven, he kept asking us questions," Jack volunteered. "Seemed to be feeling us out about whether we liked what we were doing. We just told him that we wanted to go take care of the nuke."

"Then we came back," Kawalsky picked up the story. "And the perimeter guards tried to take us in and shot at us when we refused. We thought �" " he looked at Waverly and hesitated, before clearing his throat, "well, sir, we were worried that the problem might be here, not Millhaven. That's why we came all the way back in secret, just in case."

Waverly had a mocking look on his face. "So you were coming to rescue me? How… thoughtful."

Jack winced at the sarcasm. Waverly knew that the two of them wouldn't be crying over his grave. But they had an answer for this one too.

"You're the CO, sir," Kawalsky said simply. "We couldn't let you go down and dump the whole country into chaos."

The answer made Waverly relax slightly, and Jack almost smiled. Appealing to a dictator's vanity worked every time. They weren't exactly home free, but they'd told Waverly what he wanted to hear and he should be more willing to hear the rest.

Figuring he should beat the "Chen is a traitor" horse one more time, Jack added, "We'd be glad to be part of a team to go clean out Millhaven, general. At least some of 'em are siding with Chen."

Waverly smiled very little but in real amusement at their assumption. "I gave the orders for your arrest, gentlemen."

Jack shared a glance with Kawalsky, and almost in unison they asked, "Sir?" Jack hoped Waverly bought the blank look of shock on his face. Charlie was managing to look more hurt and confused.

"To my office," Waverly ordered. "You see, if you had just come here when the Millhaven troops ordered you to, we could have cleared this problem up earlier. But," he sighed, "I suppose you both have to do things your own way, don't you?"

Under guard, they followed Waverly through the hallways of Mount Pegasus. Along the way, Jack exchanged a glance with Kawalsky, who gave him a little smile in return, pleased by their success.

They were in. Step one of the plan was done. Now, onto step two, getting out from under their watchers with some fast talk and flattery and finding a way to visit Devon without getting them all arrested.

\---+---

Jolinar leaned against the wall of the gym, grimly satisfied by what she saw by the gray light of dawn. Over the past twenty-four hours a subtle shift had taken place, with groups forming out of the once-chaotic mess. There were still many un-affiliated people in the center, and they likely didn't understand what was happening, but an organization was forming. Also, six other Thunder Mountain residents had gradually joined them. They hadn't _**said**_ that was who they were, but they knew Elizabeth and she knew them. Jolinar was rather impressed that they had been so cautious. Even now the six slept nearby -- close enough to help if needed, but not necessarily a part of their group.

The only thing that worried her was the identity of the traitor. She knew Millhaven had put someone in here, but who? No one had given themselves away, so she had to play a waiting game. But the rest were ready and anxious for a sign that their escape would happen soon.

Kurdy's infection had stabilized finally. His arm was still badly inflamed, but Jolinar had managed to persuade one of the guards to lend her a knife under armed supervision. It was rough medicine, and she longed for a hand device, but it was still effective to drain and clean the wound. Afterward, he had slept like the dead for twelve hours but came back to the living, weak but alert.

Theo continued to insult and make demands of the guards, and especially Captain Davis whenever he dared to show his face.

'_And we continue to promise the guards what we have no intention of delivering_,' Rosha added with a touch of wry humor.

'_Eventually one of them will take us from here for our payment,'_ Jolinar said. Rosha shuddered at the thought and Jolinar calmed her. '_One man we can overpower with ease and make our escape. I am certain Lantash has found us by now.'_

Rosha smiled and relaxed at the thought that their beloved was waiting outside.

The sound of activity outside drew their attention just as the main doors opened. Breakfast wasn't due for a little while, so this was unusual. The prisoners were quiet, watching and wondering what was going on. Six armed troops came in, led by one of the harder sergeants. His eyes roamed over the gathering and settled on Theo. "You," he pointed at her. "Come."

Theo stood and put her hands on her hips. "What am I? Your dog? Don't think so, honey. Theo don't 'come' for nobody, unless you got more than it looks like." She insolently let her gaze drop and sneered.

"We'll see about that, bitch," he returned and ordered his men. "Get her."

Theo turned away, as if what they were doing was of no concern of hers. Her gaze met Jolinar's, and the Tok'ra realized that Theo knew exactly what she was doing.

Elizabeth sat up, her eyes wide and alarmed. "Oh, no. Theo… what should we do?" she asked urgently. "We can't let them take you away…"

"Do nothing, sweetpea. Ain't nothing I ain't seen before," Theo muttered and folded her arms. Two of the guards reached her then and grabbed her shoulders. She twisted out from under with a grunt. "Nobody puts his grubby paws on Theo. You want me to go someplace, you _**ask**_ and maybe, I'll go there on my own two feet."

She didn't actually fight them, Jolinar noticed, just tried to push them off, so eventually they had a hold on her. "Let's go," one ordered. "You're to come with us. The captain wants to ask you some questions."

"Oh, is that all?" she asked sarcastically. "Well, why didn't you just say so? Let's be on our way then, sergeant. We don't want to keep the captain waiting, do we?"

She swept out, head held high, and the door closed behind her.

"Why?" Elizabeth asked in confusion. "Why didn't she want us to help her?"

Jolinar thought how best to put it. '_Let me_,' Rosha said and Jolinar gave way to her.

"Because she was protecting you," Rosha explained. "As she said, she has been hurt before. She knows how to cope."

"But -- " Elizabeth started to object, but fell silent when she felt a hand on her knee. She looked down to see Kurdy's eyes were open and he had clearly been watching what had just happened.

"And Markus," he added. She frowned and he elaborated, "They could want to hurt someone to pressure him into talking. They know he knows her."

She got his meaning and drew herself up, hazel eyes flashing with offense. "Markus knows I would never, _**ever**_ want him to tell them one damn thing, no matter what they did to me. He wouldn't do it."

"That's probably true," Kurdy agreed, and he took her hand. "But don't you think it would kill him inside to watch you get hurt?" he asked softly. "You know he thinks of you as his family. You're like his baby sister. And if he had to make that choice to let you get hurt, you _**know**_ he wouldn't forgive himself for it, no matter how right it was. Or whether you'd want it that way."

"I know. You're right." She wilted, nodding her understanding, and bit her lip. "I hate them," she blurted suddenly. "How can they do this? We weren't dangerous to them. We were trying to put things back together, after people like _**them**_ broke it all apart. And now they're hurting my friends, trying to destroy everything we want to build, and for no good reason. It makes me so mad!" She slapped the mat beneath her with both hands then folded her arms, glaring up at the guards on the catwalk. "I hope Erin comes soon and kicks their ass," she muttered. "What's taking her so long?"

"Maybe she's trying to rescue Markus first," Kurdy suggested. "Come here," he coaxed her down to lay next to him. "I know you're worried about Theo, but it won't do her any good to work yourself into a frenzy. Rest. You've been taking care of me for days, let me take care of you a little."

Jolinar watched them fondly as they cuddled. But she had to admit it was reassuring to believe that their own beloved was not far away. Finding the naquadah in her body would not be that difficult with the tel'tak's sensors, once he started looking. The question was how long he would wait. Lantash would be patient, trusting in her skills to keep herself safe and escape on her own, but Martouf much less so.

'_Two days more_,' Rosha guessed. '_He will give us a week to get ourselves out. They like to compromise to significant numbers.'_

The dry observation almost made her laugh aloud. How true.

But the impulse to laugh faded with a glance at the guards and the realization that their strongest ally was out of their sight, with unknown harm being done to her.

Jolinar settled on the floor, prepared to wait as long as it took for Theo to return. Her gaze swept across the other prisoners. Some were patently worried. Others acted like they didn't care, but not one gave evidence of being a spy. Jolinar sighed.

\---+---

Theo had her own reasons for agreeing with only a token of fuss. When they had first been brought in, she hadn't had a chance to look around. If a rescue attempt was made, it was important to know which way to head, especially if it was dark. And another, if not more important reason was, if there were any of these rescuers waiting outside they might need verification of the prisoners being here. She would do everything in her power to give it to them, regardless of her own personal discomfort.

The sergeant led her out of the school and they walked a short way into town. A large white building had two soldiers standing guard and this was where he took her. Inside was the man in charge of this rathole. Captain something-or-other Davis was waiting for her behind a huge desk. Was this supposed to intimidate her?

"Theo, right?" he asked.

"That is correct," she answered primly, looking around the room. "Can I sit, or shall I--" she left it hanging as she stepped around her guard and went over to the bookcase and pulled out random volumes.

Davis let her peruse his belongings for a few minutes before making a sign to his soldier. Theo found herself being pushed into a chair. "Hey, watch it," she griped.

"Tell me about Markus Alexander and your relationship to him," Davis demanded.

That made her laugh. Like he'd given her flowers or something. But it gave her an opening. "You got to be kidding. You think we're friends?" she scoffed. "Why, the only reason I was at the meeting at all was he promised to get Clarefield back for me."

"Pretty tall order. You think he actually had the manpower to deliver his promise?" Davis asked incredulously.

Theo tried not to let him see that he had riled her. It was best she not tell him anything concrete. "He's Markus Alexander. He runs the End of the World. If he says he can do something, then he can." She bent closer to his desk as if telling him a secret. "He's got running hot water. I ain't never seen that before."

"What about the others in the school? Are any of them from the Mountain?"

She rolled her eyes. "What, you think I was high on their social calendar? I was not introduced around. Markus and me made a deal that was it: he'd give me Clarefield, and I'd come watch him talk. That man sure does like to hear himself talk," she added, and it was true enough. But compared with most people, at least he had something to say that was worth hearing.

"What about the other black girl with you? How do you know her?"

"We're sisters of color, ya know? Hell, we was crammed so tightly on that truck from St. Louis we was bound to become friends," she paused as if considering, "or kill each other, I suppose."

"So, everyone in the gym are outside leaders?"

"That's right," she agreed, giving him a condescending smile as she lied through her teeth. Nope, this bastard wouldn't be finding out from her that Thunder Mountain had at least ten people stuck in the gym.

"So, when you visited the Mountain, what was your impression of Markus Alexander?"

Now she could go one of two ways. Tell him a bit of the truth, or downplay Markus' attributes. "The boy's a dreamer," she told him honestly. What the hell, what could it hurt? "He's got big plans to unite this place. Bring back civilization," she said, relishing every bit of the word. Then she explained as if Davis didn't know what it meant, "Y'know, trade, running water, electricity… all the good stuff of the old world."

Davis looked puzzled. "What about a militia? Does he have one?"

"God, no!" Theo answered, hoping she was lying and Markus' army was gonna come crashing into town any minute. "Why does such a man need an army? Everybody loves him."

"That kind of makes it difficult to get your town back for you, or will he just walk in and ask politely?"

Shit, he wasn't as dumb as he looked. Theo sulked. "I don't know. Didn't think that far ahead."

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her for some long while, a smile toying at his mouth. "Come on, do you take me for a fool? I know you're protecting him. But you don't have to. If you don't tell me, somebody will. And it might as well be you who gets to be comfortable during your stay with us. I have hot running water and electricity, too. Tell me about the Mountain's defenses and you can get out of the gym into something more pleasant."

A real fear began to build inside her. He wanted to know about their defenses. If Valhalla intended to attack the Mountain, how would they have enough resources to rescue the prisoners?

"I see you're getting my point," Davis said, with a smirk. "You're all alone here. Help me and I'll help you."

Playing nice wasn't getting her anywhere. He wanted information and there was no way she was gonna betray the only man who had a real vision of the future. Calculating the odds, she decided action was better than this mockery of chess. Time to throw the board to the floor and scatter the pieces.

Theo erupted to her feet, her arm accidentally smashing into the sergeant's nose. Not that she was sorry. "I thought we was gonna talk about my objections to this place, not wasting my time talking about a man you've already got prisoner." The sergeant pushed her back into her seat. "Unless of course, he's escaped?" she asked hopefully.

"Oh, no. He won't leave Valhalla Sector alive," he gloated. "But don't worry, I hear his interrogation will be very thorough. It could take months to pry out everything he knows."

To hide her discomfiture she looked at the blood on her hand and railed against the soldier. "Can't you keep your bodily fluids to yourself. How am I to know if you got a disease?"

Davis sniggered. "Maybe you need a bath, or a shower? Sergeant, give her a shower."

The man Theo had hit grinned maliciously. "Yes, sir," he saluted, dragging her out the door.

\---+---

Sam followed Erin into the council chambers where she found Major O'Neill, the other council members, Sarah, Nathan, and Carl Warren from security. There was another man with him who turned out to be Roberto, another senior security leader.

"All right, we're all here now," Erin began. "As you've all heard, Jeremiah has located the prisoners from St. Louis very close to us. Jack's going to tell us about it. Go ahead."

Jack stood and unrolled a large hand-drawn map of Millhaven onto the table. He'd been busy. Sam gave the map a closer look, as Jack began, using a pencil to illustrate. "This is Millhaven. It's about ninety miles from here, not far from Denver. Valhalla Sector took it over two years ago as their main western hub, since it sits on the old interstate and gives access to most of the mountain region. Jeremiah confirmed that this is where the prisoners from the St. Louis meeting are being held."

Roberto shook his head, "All that way? What the hell for?"

Jack gave a little shrug. "Valhalla itself isn't big enough to hold a hundred-plus prisoners, that much I can tell you. My guess is that Waverly wanted to combine two efforts �" keeping them prisoner for interrogation, and keeping soldiers near this place, so he could eventually attack here. Other than that, there's also the possibility that they could farm out the prisoners to some of the virus labs out this way. But whatever the thinking, the prisoners are basically in our backyard and that gives us an advantage. It should be an easy extraction, depending upon what firepower you have here."

"We don't have that much here at the Mountain. We kept the one chopper close by, but that's the one Lee and the others took to Valhalla," Erin told them with regret on her face.

"But Carson has a hanger of choppers," Nathan announced. "Not all of them are functional, but Markus had a bunch of us working on them."

"At Carson?" Erin asked, looking puzzled.

Fort Carson was the army base that sat at the foot of the Cheyenne Road. They'd passed along its perimeter on the previous mission, but Jeremiah hadn't said anything about it. Sam asked, "You have control of that base as well?"

"Sure," Nathan answered. "One of the first forays out of the Mountain was to secure anything useful. We brought back most of the small stuff -- guns, ammo, parts, that sort of thing. But the choppers couldn't be moved, so we locked the hangar. Eventually, Markus assigned a contingent to stay there, since it guards our access."

"So how many choppers can fly?" Major O'Neill asked.

"Not sure. I've been in St. Louis for quite a while." Nathan looked at Erin who shrugged her shoulders.

"Guess we'll have to go find out," she said, looking troubled.

Nathan turned to O'Neill and asked, "How much of the shit they hit us with in St. Louis is going to be there?"

O'Neill nodded his approval of Nathan's grasp of the situation. "According to Jeremiah's info, not a lot. He picked up a buddy in Millhaven, a guy named Marty, who's been watching for a couple of days. Seems his girlfriend got grabbed in the assault on the big meeting and he followed. So, to get her out, he's been helping Jeremiah assess the Millhaven situation. He told Jeremiah a lot of the tactical intel."

"We should go right away," Nathan insisted. "I haven't had time to sign up for this army you've created, but I know how to fly the choppers, and I know three other pilots, although we haven't done any actual combat."

Sam smiled at his enthusiasm. "Can you add anything, Major, about Millhaven?" Sam asked, needing to clarify everything for those that had not been present when Jeremiah had called.

"I've been to Millhaven a few times and what Jeremiah told us agrees with what I've seen. The main ways in are guarded, usually by a team of four and some kind of mounted gun on a vehicle. The main base and where the prisoners are held is an old high school on the south side of town. They've got some APC's �" a sort of light tank," he explained as an aside, seeing the confused frowns. "There are also gun emplacements, with high caliber machine guns, including one 105 mm howitzer on the roof."

"How many men?" Carl asked.

"A little over one hundred total," O'Neill answered. "But there are also civilians in town. Some of them might fight us, too, but some might help. Most are just gonna want to stay out of the way. The good news," O'Neill went on, "is that it's well-defended, but mostly from the ground. But if we've got some air power, that'll let us strike fast and hard."

Sam couldn't help another glance at Erin, who pressed her lips together but said nothing.

"You want to take them by surprise," Andrew stated.

O'Neill nodded. "Exactly. It's our only real advantage. If we take too long getting the prisoners out, Valhalla's going to be able to send support. They've still got troops cleaning up St. Louis and helicopters and even a few planes of their own. Fuel is in short supply for them as well, but Waverly will use it to get there as fast as he can and hope to come up on our rear."

Carl frowned. "How much of a surprise can it be, really? They've got to know we'll be coming. Maybe they _**want**_ us to come. Maybe that's why they brought the prisoners so close. It's a trap."

"It could be," O'Neill agreed. "But I don't think so. Mostly because if they wanted to lay a trap, they'd bait it with Markus. Maybe that's the real reason they took him back to Valhalla, to try to lure your forces out there, so the Millhaven contingent can sneak in through the back door. But even if I'm wrong and it is a trap," he shrugged, "if we go in strong enough, it won't matter."

Sarah nodded, but seemed concerned. "They're going to know, back in Virginia, about what we're doing, aren't they?"

O'Neill nodded, with a frown. "I expect so. They've got radio and sat gear. They'll probably hear about it the instant we arrive. That's why we have to be fast. St Louis is only six hundred miles away �" they can have air support at Millhaven in ninety minutes. And that's presuming they don't have assets closer, which I wouldn't like to bet on."

She waved her hand, dismissing that issue, and raised her eyes to look at O'Neill and then Erin. "What's to prevent them from killing Markus or Daniel the second they hear?"

Bluntly, O'Neill answered, "Nothing. But why would they? Their value isn't in being hostages, it's what they know. There's also nothing to keep Waverly or Davis from ordering all the prisoners killed when they hear us coming, but that's why we have to be on top of them before they know we're there."

He waited, as everyone thought about it. When no one raised any more questions, he nodded. "All right. Are we all in agreement?"

As they all nodded he added, "Until I see exactly what firepower the Mountain has, I can't effectively make a battle plan."

"Other than we go in and shoot everyone in sight?" Kate suggested sarcastically but with an edge to her voice that suggested she meant it.

Sam winced, but the major handled it beautifully. "We don't want to do that. Trust me when I say that Valhalla's been heavy handed with the propaganda against this place. You need to prove them wrong. A precise extraction with a minimum of collateral damage is key." He paused, then turned to Erin. "I need to get to Carson so I can see the choppers and assess their condition."

Sam saw the momentary blank in Erin's eyes, before Nathan spoke up, saving her from an answer. "I can take you there," he responded.

"Great," Jack replied, picking up his notes. "Sam, Erin, is this a good time for you?"

Sam smiled approvingly. This Jack might actually have more tact than the one from her universe.

Erin replied, "Of course."

Sam nodded and the meeting was over.

\---+---

The "shower stall" was merely an old fence and lots of grass. They had tied her to the fence and proceeded to blast her with water. They'd turn it off, laughing and joking with each other and then without notice, turn it on again. She swore at them when she could, cursing them and Davis and all the assholes of Valhalla Sector.

But finally they seemed like they were tiring of the game, and let her stand there several minutes, dripping water. She ignored her shivers, to stare malevolently at the soldier still holding the high-pressure hose. He wore a shit-eating grin.

"You stroking that hose like it was your dick on a Saturday night," Theo taunted, needing some kind of revenge, even if it afforded her another dousing.

And it did. The water came out so hard she fell to her knees. But, overall, it was a kind of torture she could endure without hardship. Just living on the Outside was harsher than this.

He turned the water off and stood gazing at her, but not grinning as before. Theo took solace in this. Then she noticed Captain Davis standing off to one side. She frowned but held her tongue.

"I see you've had your wash. Now its time to hang you up to dry."

Theo didn't like the sound of that. Davis handed the sergeant a gun. "Shoot her if she gives you any trouble. One less prisoner won't hit Valhalla's radar."

That was when Theo noticed a camcorder in the Captain's hand. "You're making a movie of Theo? I don't think you got my best side," she sniped, wanting to primp, but finding herself too cold to bend right. This whole farce could only be meant for Markus. At least Elizabeth had been spared this kind of humiliation.

With **two** other soldiers in tow, probably to save the poor sergeant from her poor self, she was ordered, "Walk, bitch!"

Still off-balance, Theo did as she was bid. Then she remembered that she was about to get hung up to dry. In an effort to regain control, she went over why she wanted out of the gym in the first place. Finally taking notice of her surroundings, she saw the large forest off to the west and hoped friendly eyes were watching from its cover. The main street, filled with potholes, made walking difficult, but being wet was even harder to endure. Maybe they intended to freeze her ass off.

On they walked. In the center of town was a small wooden building with a Historical Society sign in the front. The sign stated that the building used to be the town hall in the nineteenth century. But what caught her eye was the pillory standing beside the front door.

"You're not putting Theo in there," she muttered taking several steps back.

The gun pressed harder into her side. She had to think of something fast. Furtive glances around her showed several soldiers enjoying her predicament. A couple of residents slouched against a tall electric pole gazing balefully. One woman had a child and she hurried along so the child wouldn't see Theo. While occupied with her visual recon, the sergeant had unlocked the pillory and made a move to push her in it.

She fought like a wildcat, kicking and screaming, biting and cursing. Then the gun went off, causing all movement to cease.

"The next shot will go directly into your head if you don't cooperate," Captain Davis told her with deadly earnest.

Theo refused to bend over and put her head into the contraption, but the sergeant had no trouble making her and with the gun against her head she had no choice but to let him. She made faces at the people staring at her. No one looked at her with sympathy.

She had to look on the bright side of this whole mess. If Thunder Mountain was nearby, they could hardly miss seeing her.

"You have been complaining unceasingly about the gym and the comforts we allotted you. Now, you'll find out just what _**uncomfortable**_ really is." Davis laughed at his little joke and walked away.

"You'll stay in there for the rest of the day. No food. No water. No company. Maybe then you'll be a little more _**accommodating**_," the sergeant spit out. With a last look of disgust, he and his helpers stalked off.

Theo was able to lift her head and look around. Did she see anyone she recognized?

The people milling around began to disperse. This didn't bother Theo. While she loved playing to an audience, what she wanted now was solitude, so that if Jeremiah or somebody was around he might come up and say hi.

She snorted at her dreams. You'd think the Big Death would have destroyed such wishful thinking. Nothing good ever happened -- only bad.


	24. Chapter 24

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. President," Daniel said as he took a seat across the desk from the gray-haired man who claimed to be the head of the country.

"You intend to tell me the truth about who you are?" the older man asked.

Daniel took a deep breath. Time was running out and Daniel only had one card left to play. He doubted it was going to work, but he had to try _something_ besides sit on his hands and watch Markus die. "I do. I am Dr. Daniel Jackson. You may have noticed my age, I was definitely past the age of puberty when the Big Death occurred."

"We had noticed," the president remarked dryly. "Have you been with Markus Alexander from the beginning?"

"No. My story has nothing to do with Markus. In fact I only met him for the first time last week." Daniel swallowed, took a deep breath and then plowed into his story. "I'm an archeologist. When the Big D happened, my colleagues and I were on a remote location in Peru. We were categorizing artifacts from a civilization that was supposed to be the first in that continent. But I'm sure you don't want to hear about that," he remarked sarcastically.

"Actually, I find it fascinating. We can talk about it another time. Continue."

Yeah, after I'm dead, Daniel thought to himself. "When we were finally ready to leave the dig, we hiked the twenty miles or so to the next village and from there took a jeep into a town. That was where we first found out. We skirted the main buildings and went to the hanger that contained our plane. At first we thought an epidemic had hit this small area, but as we flew north, the true nature of the devastation became apparent. We stopped at more refueling places along the way back to the United States, praying that it hadn't hit that far north.

"It had. We made a circle around this entire country, but couldn't find any traces of civilization left. So, we--"

The door burst open and Colonel Simmons bounded in. "Mr. President. You should let me conduct these interrogations."

"Colonel, please leave," President Emerson told him firmly. "Daniel here has told me more in two minutes than you've gotten out using your methods in two days."

"Only because he's facing the death penalty. I feel I must stay--"

This time Daniel interrupted. "If he stays, I'm not saying anything else. I have no respect for someone who gets off on someone else's pain. He doesn't deserve my story." Daniel stared at he president. Would he counter Simmons' demands?

"Leave, Colonel. I very much want to hear the end of this."

Daniel let a small smile crease his face. Simmons glared back, but Daniel didn't care anymore. He knew what the end of the story was going to be, unless Jack was able to pull another rabbit out of his hat.

"Continue," the president entreated, as the door slammed shut behind Simmons.

"When we finally realized there was nothing for us here, we stocked up and returned to the dig. There was so much we still needed to do and no ties back here. None of us had family; archeology is more than just a job, it's a life. So, for the next five years we dug, recorded, and hypothesized. After that dig, we went to another site. It was empty of all people, so we, pardon the pun, dug in.

"We continued in this vein, until last month. I think boredom set in and maybe a little of being in each other's pockets without anyone else to talk to. So, we packed up our research and decided to come home and see what's been happening here. You know as scientists, we kind of thought of the whole thing as a fascinating experiment. How would this country evolve? Was anyone left?"

"So, you didn't know that the virus only attacked adults and that the children were safe?"

Daniel couldn't help his derisive laugh. "Safe? The children weren't safe. They had to fend for themselves," he cleared his throat. "We landed in Texas and began on foot, investigating towns and--"

Suddenly the alarms sounded. Daniel jumped, expecting soldiers to come running into the room, ready to drag Daniel back to his cell, but nothing happened. In fact the president never twitched.

"Don't mind the sound," he said loudly. "It'll stop in a moment."

As the president made no move to get up and see what was happening, Daniel relaxed and continued.

"We found out just how dangerous it was out there. Nothing had become centralized. It was like everyone was still stuck in the hunter-gatherer mode. Agriculture was non-existent. There was no evidence of animal husbandry. Even the use of horses as transportation was scarce. It had been fifteen years of stagnation."

Daniel decided now was a good time to end the tale and make it personal, driving his point home. "So, what happened, Mr. President? You have a surplus of workers, warehouses of supplies, knowledge how to rebuild this country, yet you've done nothing except make a new virus that kills adults and children? What are your priorities?"

The president blinked at the sudden attack. "I'm sorry," Daniel said contrite. "Maybe you're not the one in charge; aren't responsible for the decisions. Has the presidency become purely ceremonial?"

Emerson sputtered, but said nothing coherent.

Daniel was on a roll now, and couldn't stop even if he'd wanted to. It felt good to get it all off his chest, and since Emerson wasn't stopping him, why not give it to him too? Maybe something would strike a chord and open Emerson's eyes. "I do understand the military, probably better than you do. They always feel they're in the right, but it takes a sagacious man to be able to point out flaws in their way of thinking, and allow basic humanitarian traits to not appear weak in their eyes.

"The military is very good at organization. But I've seen very little of that either, at least anything put to a useful purpose. You have supplies and skills that you're wasting, when they could be helping people. Where's the support and teaching for farming techniques? What about engineering? The roads are crumbling, and there's no power, no sanitation, nothing. Those children out there are wearing clothes that are fifteen years old, and they don't know how to make more. How can you claim to be the country's leaders here, if you barely poke your heads out of this hole?"

"They're wild out there. It isn't safe."

The answer made Daniel want to bang his head on the desk. Of course it wasn't safe -- that was the whole point. But Emerson couldn't or didn't want to understand that. "No, it's not," Daniel agreed wearily. "It's not safe at all. But it seems that only Markus is willing to try to help those wild children **_find_ **safety, despite the risk." Thinking of Markus reminded Daniel of what Elizabeth had said was something he had taught everyone at the mountain. He was right, because Daniel could see proof of it right here.

"You had your chance," he told Emerson. "You could have built something good, but you blew it. Remember that old saying: --'Those who don't remember the mistakes of the past are doomed to repeat them in the future.'" Daniel shook his head, in pity and wonder at their ignorance. "You're repeating those mistakes right now."

"What do you mean?" Emerson asked defensively. "What mistakes?"

"Have you ever heard of Joan of Arc? The similarities are quite striking."

Would anything sink in? Was Emerson smart enough to learn, or was he merely the puppet he appeared?

"You can take me back to the brig," Daniel added, when the president didn't seem able to continue the conversation. "I need to check on Markus. He's probably not going to make it to the execution. I guess there's only one universal constant in these times and that's man's inhumanity to man. I hope you enjoy this brave new world you're making. That's if anyone's left in it."

Daniel was now sick at heart and got up of his own accord. Emerson still said nothing, as Daniel went out the door. He doubted if anything he'd said made a bit of difference.

\---+---

Just before he and Charlie came to Waverly's office, another man met up with them in the hall. Jack stiffened in surprise, but then quickly remembered to salute just seconds after Charlie.

"West," Jack whispered to himself. The man was wearing his dress blues, but instead of sporting stars on his collar, an eagle sat perched there. The turkey never made general, what a shame.

Colonel West gave Charlie and then him a look of scorn before leading them inside. Waverly nodded to a bright young thing sitting at a front desk, before ushering them inside a plush office. Simmons wasn't around, to Jack's surprise, but he figured Simmons would get his own chance later.

Kawalsky gave the potted version of what had happened, with a few interjections from Jack, and a few questions from West. Waverly kept quiet throughout most of the spiel, obviously waiting for the end to pass judgment. Jack tried very hard to rein in his impulse to insult them, but it was hard. He kept reminding himself that he was a major, not a colonel, and neither his rank, his service record, or friendship with anyone high up in the food chain existed here. No, here, he was a barely tolerated screw-up, valuable only because he was expendable and had some success at recon and cleaning up various messes. Well, on second thought, the other Jack wasn't **_that_ **different, after all.

So he kept his mouth mostly shut, and let Kawalsky do the talking. True to his word, Kawalsky's ability to lie had flourished in this reality. It was awe-inspiring how he delivered the horse droppings on a silver platter, and Waverly and West lapped them up like they were strawberries in cream.

"Anything to add, Major O'Neill?" West asked at the end of Kawalsky's recital.

Jack shrugged. "I think that about covers it, sir."

"Very well. I must say I'm disappointed you let those men get the drop on you and steal your jeep. We don't have so many that we can just give them away to everyone who wants one," Waverly said, tapping his pen on the top of his desk.

"Of course not, sir," Jack answered, when it seemed like Waverly wanted some sort of response.

Waverly grimaced. "But other than that, nothing else comes as a surprise. You've both been good soldiers, generally, and I did find it hard to believe that either of you had any connection to the rebels. Of course, Colonel Simmons is going to want to question you, since it was his source that suggested one or both of you had gone over. You will answer his questions fully and cooperate completely, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Jack said, though he wanted to say just the opposite. The thought of cooperating with Frank Simmons was enough to make him sick. But he asked, "Should I report to him now?"

"He's ...busy," Waverly said, exchanging a look with West. "He'll call for you when he's ready to see you, majors. In the meantime, for your irresponsibly letting your comm gear and truck get stolen by a bunch of children, you are confined to the base and all your privileges are suspended for two weeks. Clear, major?" he directed at Jack.

"Yes, sir," Jack answered, while wondering what privileges those were.

"Major Kawalsky, you will remain here for further questions. Major O'Neill, you are dismissed."

Jack hesitated briefly, wondering why Kawalsky was being kept back. Suspicions raced through his mind: Was Kawalsky **_still_ **one of Waverly's supporters? Was Kawalsky going to rat him out? But there was nothing he could do about it, so he saluted and left. At least he was finally getting out of there. He hadn't had to stand at formal 'at ease' for that long in an age, but of course, Waverly had wanted to show his dominance by making them stand while he and West sat down for the interrogation.

He smiled at Waverly's secretary on the way out and found himself in the corridor outside. Nodding to the guards who were waiting there, he wandered over to the bulletin board to check out the various posted announcements. Amazing how the brass could manage to fill an entire bulletin board with paper even after the end of the world -- some things really never did change.

Daniel's name caught his eye. He took a closer look at the paper with yesterday's date. It was an announcement of judicial actions taken. No surprise that both Daniel and Markus had been found guilty of various crimes, up to and including treason. Sentenced to death. No date given for execution, which probably meant whenever Waverly thought they were more useful to him dead.

As he walked away, Jack shook his head slightly and grimaced. No wonder Simmons was "busy". Busy trying to wring his friends dry. But since Waverly had seemed to buy the story, neither Markus or Daniel had talked, which didn't surprise Jack at all.

He needed to find out how they were doing and where they were, but he didn't dare approach them yet. Not when there were two guards on his heels, ready to report everything back to Waverly.

He also needed to talk to Devon, as Lee had suggested, but he'd have to do it subtly. Marching to Devon's room would look just as bad as going to visit Daniel.

So he first went to "his" room. The room made the one he'd shared with Daniel in Thunder Mountain look like a palace. This one held a cot, one metal cabinet converted into a wardrobe, and a small table, holding a lamp. The only personal touch was the two framed photos on the table, a wedding portrait and one of Charlie. The wedding photo was surreal -- it was Sara, yet not quite his Sara. Her hair was done differently and the gown had sleeves. Her smile was the same though, with that same sparkle in her eyes. And three-year-old Charlie was the same, down to his red Christmas sweater.

So awful to realize that neither Charlie nor Sara had lived to see Charlie's fourth Christmas.

Jack set the photos back down carefully, knowing he'd hate a stranger pawing his mementos and turned to look at the rest of the room. His pack was already there, slightly disheveled from being searched. He just sighed and pushed it next to the wall with his foot. There was nothing else of interest.

In order to act normally, he grabbed the toiletry kit and went to shower and change clothes. When he left the bathroom, he gestured the guards to form up on him, deciding he might as well not pretend they weren't following him around. He had them escort him to find lunch, hoping that either Kawalsky would be done with Waverly or maybe he would find inspiration to carry out the rest of his plan.

The cafeteria was a good-sized space, set with benches and long tables. Officers and a select few civilians sat at one, and everyone else sat at the other two. There were also two lines, divided by rank, and Jack hesitated before selecting one. One of his friendly escorts said, "Sir, that's not --"

He gave the man a grin. "I know, but look, they have Jell-O!" He pointed, and the guard had to smile back. He also let Jack go to the civilian line alone, hanging back by the wall to watch.

Which was handy, since Jack had recognized someone promising in that line. Jennifer Hailey. He got in behind her. "Hello, Jennifer."

She started and turned. "Oh, Major O'Neill!" She looked nervous, he saw, and her hand shook a little as she put the plate she was handed onto her tray. He smiled, trying to put her at ease. Inside he was saddened -- here was a young woman who had turned into a younger version of Carter, brains and military skills both, but this civilian Jennifer Hailey just looked frightened.

"They have red Jell-O," he said, as he took his own plate of lunch and looked at it dubiously.

She couldn't help a look of surprise. "Jell-O?" But it was as if she'd been told that she had to humor the higher-ups because she forced a smile. "You like Jell-O, sir?"

"They don't serve it in the other line," he murmured conspiratorially. Then when she was getting tapioca pudding, and he was reaching for his red gelatin, he added, "I was wondering if you might do me a favor."

Again with the startled deer in the headlights look, and he wondered if he was making a mistake. There had to be **_something_ **of the Hailey he knew in her, didn't there?

"Of-of course, Major," she stammered. "Anything."

"Do you know Devon Samuels?" he asked.

"A little," she answered hesitantly, filling her cup with water and putting it on her tray before she continued. "I know who he is, of course."

The end of the line was coming up, and he was out of time. Mentally crossing his fingers and toes that this wasn't as stupid as it seemed, he said, "Would you take him a message that I need to talk to him? It's very important. But nobody else can find out about it. Please," he added. "I know it's … irregular, but I need to talk to him."

Her eyes flew up to look in his face and he could practically see the sparks inside that large brain flying around.

Someone else interrupted, grabbing her arm. "Jennifer! What the hell is taking you so long? I've got better things to do than sit around and wait for you to decide what you're going to eat."

The new guy and Jack recognized each other at about the same time. Another one of those kids who'd come out of the Academy and into the SGC with Hailey: Grogan. Clearly he had also changed for the worst in this reality, with a nasty, bullying tone to his voice that Jack wouldn't approve of using on a dog.

"I -- I was just --" she started, flinching.

But he cut her off, pulling himself up to attention. "I'm sorry, Major O'Neill. I didn't see you there."

O'Neill looked pointedly at the tight grip Grogan still had on her arm. "Obviously not," he answered dryly. There was a wedding band visible on Grogan's finger and he felt a lot more sorry for Hailey. "Try to show some better manners than manhandling your wife in the cafeteria, lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." The lieutenant relaxed his grip, instead tucking his arm around her waist. "Come along, honey, I've been waiting for you," he cooed. But Jack saw the way she flinched again. Damn it, what a sad waste.

But to his surprise, while he led her away, she turned back to look at Jack once. She didn't say anything, but she nodded very slightly.

He couldn't help a broad smile as he collected his tray. What a brave girl.

\---+---

The reaction across the cafeteria at the elite table was somewhat similar, if more confused.

_'Interesting,'_ Malek said to his host internally. _'O'Neill is back less than a day and he wants to meet Devon in secret.'_ Malek's long years enabled him to lip-read, and they had understood most of the conversation between O'Neill and Jennifer. Now they were trying to figure out why. As far as either had ever seen, O'Neill had never involved himself in the situation between Grogan and his wife, nor sought out Devon. They knew from Devon that O'Neill was _not_ one of his operatives; the only one from the military had been Lee.

_'It must be true,_' Chuan said, watching O'Neill cross the cafeteria and boldly sit at the end of their table as if he had every right to be there. '_He is affiliated with Thunder Mountain. Somehow. Maybe he's here to try to free Markus and Daniel.'_

_'Let us not jump to conclusions. Perhaps he has word from Lee for Devon,_' Malek cautioned. '_We know O'Neill met Lee in Millhaven, and O'Neill has not returned since. Events may have overtaken his message.'_

_'That may be,'_ Chuan allowed. '_But why Jennifer? I don't remember him ever paying attention to her before. He knows Libby is close to Devon, why did he not go to her?'_

_'That puzzles me as well,' _Malek agreed. '_Unless we are not the first to think that Grogan's mistreatment of her might make her an ally. Perhaps she is not the innocent she seems.'_

_'We must tell Devon of O'Neill's interest, in case Jennifer does not_.'

Malek agreed.

Only later, after some painfully polite conversation with Major Williams, as Malek was rising to leave, did he realize something ominous.

The top four men in the mountain -- Waverly, Simmons, West, and President Emerson -- had not come to lunch.

What it meant, he did not know. But he and Chuan agreed it could not be good news.

\---+---

Markus glanced around the small room as he was brought in, finding to his surprise that there were no obvious implements of torture, just a chair in front of a blank television mounted on the wall.

The guards cuffed him to the chair and left. He waited and when nothing happened immediately, decided he might as well close his eyes and rest. The walk had gotten his pulse up and that probably wasn't a good thing, if the throbbing pain in his head and side was any indication.

The only door in the room opened behind him. He said without opening his eyes, "I hope you're going to show some good cartoons. I wore out my tape of 'Tom and Jerry'."

"No, Markus," Simmons answered, his voice running down Markus' spine like cold water. "You're not going to watch cartoons." His shoes clicked on the linoleum floor as he walked in front of Markus and turned on the television. "But the show is entertaining."

Markus guessed what he would see. So he didn't look, resisting a little, until Simmons turned up the volume.

"_… son of a bitch! You tell that fucking -- "_ And then the sound of a pained, infuriated cry and what sounded like static.

He knew the voice and had to open his eyes.

Theo.

She was tied to what looked like an outdoor fence, and a high-pressure water hose turned on her. She twisted against the force, but couldn't escape, until the hose was moved off. She sank to her knees, panting.

Simmons said, "I believe you know her, don't you, Markus? At Millhaven they call her the 'Clarefield bitch', since she doesn't seem to know her place. But she is one of your allies. She was at Thunder Mountain two months ago, according to my information. So, we start with her."

Markus watched them torture Theo a little longer, as a fist of rage clenched in his chest. Bastards. She forced herself up to her feet, spitting water at her attackers with a defiant snarl on her face. The icy knot loosened, at the sight of her bravery and stubborn refusal to back down, and he almost smiled. 'Clarefield bitch', he'd have to remember to tell her that - she'd like it. Markus looked up at Simmons, a small frown on his face. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to break down and tell you everything because you threaten my friends?" he asked in mock puzzlement. "You torture and kill her in front of me, hoping to weaken my resolve, is that it?"

Simmons raised his brows. "Well, yes, actually," Simmons answered. "I'm glad you understand how this works."

"No," Markus said, a snap to his voice that took Simmons by surprise. "Let me tell you how this works. I am who and what I am **_because_ **of people like you. I saw death, I lived in it. And so did every single child on the Outside, including Theo." He nodded toward the television screen, where she was being pelted with water again. "But unlike her, I had the luxury of dreams.

He raised his chin. "We will rebuild the world better than it was before the Big Death shattered it, with more compassion and justice and peace. Theo believes in that promise. Everyone who was at that meeting does." That was probably stretching things, he realized, but he was trying to make a point. "Hurting me or anyone else isn't going to get me to tell you anything. Threatening to burn me alive isn't going to get you anything. Because I'm not afraid of dying. I don't care what you do - I know I'm right and that's enough."

Simmons shook his head, a scornful look on his face. "No wonder Gordon likes you. You both enjoy wallowing in sentimental bullshit. And what's even more amazing to me, you believe it. Do you actually think you can get the whole country back and united without using force? What do you plan to do when those violent little heathens resist? You're going to force them to do what you want, that's what. Because that's the real world, Markus. The real world is about power -- who has it and who doesn't. And right now, I have it."

He leaned so close his breath was warm against Markus' cheek, and his hand set down on Markus' left shoulder and ran down his chest. Instinctively, Markus pushed back in the chair, knowing what he was going to do, but there was nowhere to go.

"Tell me what I want to know, or … hmm, it should be somewhere about here," Simmons murmured and _**pressed**._

Jerking violently, he could hear himself cry out, but do nothing about it, overwhelmed by the lightning strike of sheer agony radiating outward from his middle. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't feel his fingers, and wasn't even sure his heart was still beating.

But strangely, he could hear a second voice order sharply, "Colonel Simmons!"

And it stopped. Thank God, Simmons took his hand away. He tried to push the pain back, tried to figure out what had happened, but at first his body was having none of it. Fire-shot darkness was still a veil across his eyes, and he couldn't draw a breath. But he could hear.

"Was there something you wanted?" Simmons said impatiently. "I'm interrogating the prisoner. Your presence isn't required."

Markus recognized the voice as President Emerson once he spoke again. Much to his surprise, Emerson's tone had an edge to it, "Colonel, the proper response is 'What can I do for you, Mister President?' Either that young man is president or I am, and since you told me that I am, that makes me your commander-in-chief."

More warily, Simmons repeated, "What can I do for you, Mister President?"

"You can stop hurting him to no purpose, first of all," Emerson said. "I was listening outside, and I believe him, colonel. He's not going to tell you anything, which makes any interrogation not just a waste of time, but an exercise in pure sadism. And I would like to think we're a little more enlightened than **_enjoying_ **the pain of others."

"But -- sir -- " Simmons said, tacking the 'sir' on belatedly.

"And second," Emerson went on, without pause, "take him back to his cell. I'm beginning to think we've really fucked this whole thing up, Colonel. At what point did it become even **_thinkable_ **to burn someone alive? I think we need to rethink our priorities and our methods, not to mention get a new approach. And we might need him alive for it, so I can't let you kill him."

Markus listened to this speech with amazement. He wanted to turn around and look at Emerson and see if he was serious, but he had barely gotten his eyes to open. Breathing was still a hard and tricky thing. Moving was beyond him.

If he'd been amazed, Simmons was more so. "Mister President, what are you saying?" he asked. "That he's not a traitor to our country? That he didn't try to incite rebellion?"

"Come now, Simmons," Emerson chided. "Try not to believe your own propaganda, or push it on me. I'm not a fool, but I do wonder if you are. You and Waverly are rushing head-long into creating a martyr that not only will put Thunder Mountain and all its friends against us, but gather allies to their flag like bees to honey, including some of our people here. So take him back to his cell and leave him alone. That's an order, Colonel."

There was grim amusement in Emerson's voice as he added, "So now you have a choice -- you can obey and keep up the fiction that you're still a good servant of the United States, or you can tell me to go to hell and do what you want, and destroy the notion that there really is a democratic system of government. Your choice, Colonel. But be prepared to accept the consequences."

Emerson's shoes clicked on the floor as he left and went down the hall. For a long moment, Simmons was silent. Then he chuckled. "And once again, you get a protector. You lead a charmed life, Markus. But we'll see how long it lasts. Emerson's bouts of conscience never last longer than it takes to inconvenience him, so don't depend on it. By tomorrow you'll be mine again, and now I know how to get your attention."

He gave Markus a swift poke in the side again before walking out. After that, the guards had to carry Markus back to the brig. As they went through the main corridor on the way, even in his dazed brain, he realized there were more people than there were before. Not just more soldiers, but generally more people, and he had the sudden fancy they were there to see him go past. He could feel their stares, a mix of shock and pity on many of the faces. He even heard someone say in a voice meant to be quiet, "My God, what are they doing to him?" And someone else asked in a hushed whisper, "Is he alive?"

He wanted to wave, to move somehow. Speaking would have been good too. But he couldn't do any of it. He couldn't even keep awake -- his mind kept phasing out, so he ended up back in the cell, not remembering more than isolated bits of the journey.

And there was someone strange in his cell. Someone tall and older than he was with light hair and blue eyes. Markus asked, "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Was that really his voice, so hoarse and whispery? And why was his hand shaking so much that he could barely lift it?

The blue eyes widened in shock. "Markus? Don't you know who I am?"

He was supposed to know him? Yes, he realized, he did. "You look familiar. But I can't -- why don't I remember?" Panic fluttered at the edges of his mind, because he **_should_ **remember.

"It's all right," the stranger reassured him, though by the look on his face, it wasn't all right at all. "You've been hurt. I'm Daniel."

"Daniel. Right." It all popped back into his head, right where it was supposed to be. He looked up at Daniel, and he knew he had to look just as scared as Daniel did, because he felt like throwing up from the fear that had tightened up his throat. "I forgot," he admitted in a voice that trembled. Not many things scared him, but losing his mind did. "I really didn't know you."

"I know. It's the blood loss and the low blood sugar and the pain and I don't know what else, that's all. You just need to rest and have a little water," Daniel said in an attempt at an encouraging voice.

The last thing Markus remembered was sipping the water that Daniel was giving him before it all blanked out again.

\---+---

Erin felt she was in some kind of daze as Nathan led them to a Rover and proceeded to take them out of the Mountain. Jack and Sam were talking a mile a minute to Nathan asking about the number of choppers, amount of ammo and gas. All Erin cared about was how and why Markus kept so much a secret from her.

Fort Carson was surrounded by an electrified fence, which Nathan disabled and then drove inside. He turned it on once more before heading towards a large hangar near an airstrip.

"Are there planes as well?" Jack asked, clearly impressed.

Nathan waved toward another hangar, and the rusted remnant of one airplane on the overgrown runway. "Sure, but we didn't try to keep them in shape. Nobody knows how to fly them."

Nathan parked the Rover and they all got out. Against the door was a hand pad and computer screen. "This hanger has been boarded up from the inside and there's no way someone can get in without clearance. Markus and I spent a week on securing it."

Nathan placed his hand on the pad and the computer flashed his name and security clearance on the screen. He then had to log everyone he was allowing admittance and have them place their hands on the pad. "This won't allow you to enter later, it's just a record of who's gone in and who authorized it," he told them.

When Erin put her hand on the pad, her clearance came up that said she was allowed in at any time. Sam gave her a reassuring smile, so obviously the other woman had noticed her reactions.

The door clicked open, allowing them into a small room with another very heavy-looking steel door with a combination lock on it. Nathan dialed and turned the heavy handle to open the door. Overhead banks of lights slowly flickered on, revealing the cavernous hangar.

The sight made Erin gape. There were more than a dozen helicopters. "How do they get out?" she asked, since they couldn't fit through the door they'd just went through.

"Retractable ceiling," Sam answered. "My God, there's even more here than I would have thought." She sounded really amazed. "I see Hueys," Sam muttered.

"And two brand new Apache's," Nathan continued. "They arrived about three months before the Big Death hit."

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

"My father was stationed here. He was a pilot. Me and Roberto had come on base to look for our dads, and after we entered, we couldn't get out again. Markus came a few weeks later and brought us to the Mountain. That's why he made me the head of Carson and the choppers."

"Your dad teach you how to fly?" Jack asked.

"Yep. We had a Bell and we'd fly that. Sometimes on weekends we'd take tourists on trips up in the Mountains to see the sights. Dad let me be the co-pilot," he said proudly.

"So, you pretty much taught the others how to fly?" Sam asked.

"You got it. There's also a simulator," he pointed toward the back of the hangar. "We practice on that, since fuel's limited."

"How about the Apaches? You flown them?" Jack asked.

Nathan shook his head no. "I was afraid of crashing them."

Erin began to feel a little better. Nathan was in charge and in-the-know because of his circumstances. But she still felt left out. She'd known there was a guard presence at Carson. But she'd never had any inklings about this hangar or its contents.

Sam gazed around, her gaze settling on some crates with USAF markings. "I take it this wasn't the only base that Markus cleaned out after the Big Death."

"No," Nathan agreed. "The eldest of us went after all the guns and ammo particularly. He didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands. We picked over the rest of it more leisurely later on." He smiled a little in memory, and Erin felt envious, imagining him and Markus and probably Sarah and Simon scavenging the neighborhood military bases. It was a little strange, too, since Markus had rarely left the mountain himself the years she had been there.

She began to look around the hanger in earnest. There was no sense of abandonment here, other than the lack of workers. The floor was clean. Large mechanic's carts, with tools overflowing the drawers were peppered throughout the hanger. Some against walls while others were next to exposed engines on some of the choppers.

"Most don't work," Nathan told her as he came to stand alongside her. "Maybe half can fly. We've been piecing together working guns with running choppers, but it's been hard. We just don't have parts for them all."

"Is that why there's only one that we use regularly?" Erin asked.

"Yeah. Markus wanted at least one in total working order. We've been making modifications in the others, you know switching broken parts in one for working parts in another. I think we have four in pretty good condition, unless something's happened to change that."

"Who's been in charge here while you were in St. Louis?" Erin asked, wondering who would know how many worked. "Lee?"

"No. Although he does know how to pilot one."

"So, who?" Erin asked again, frustrated. "Berto? Cuz it wasn't me."

"I don't know. Markus didn't tell me."

"I understand," Erin commented, her hand balling into a fist. She did, in a way, understand Markus' pathological need to keep secrets. But not from her.

Jack wandered past the helicopters and entered a side bay containing accessories. "Cool," he muttered half to himself. "The missile launchers work?"

"We never tried," Nathan answered. "Markus said they were low on the priority list. You think we should have them when we attack Millhaven?"

"They might come in handy," Jack commented with a gleam in his eye and began sorting through the equipment with practiced hands.

Erin stayed at the door as the others wandered around, poking around the choppers, parts and desks. Sam looked over Nathan's shoulder then suddenly stuck her hand into one of the engines connecting a few wires. "That should help," she told no one in particular.

Jack wanted to know a little about everything that worked. Nathan followed behind Jack explaining as they went. Erin didn't follow, though she listened. A pit was forming in her stomach. A part of her was happy that they had such reserves, but another felt betrayed. How dare Markus not share it with her? Wasn't she his right hand? Why did Nathan and Lee know about it, yet not her? This hurt worse than when she'd found out about Meaghan. She couldn't help wondering about what else Markus had kept from her.

Taking an involuntary step backwards, her back hit against the hangar wall. She didn't want to look inside the helicopters. She could hear them calculating how many people they could transport, and how far their gas would take them. Suddenly Sam looked over at her and after saying something quietly to Jack, she joined Erin.

"Are you okay?"

Erin didn't know how to answer without sounding petty and trivial. "It's all just so overwhelming. But I guess I'm okay." She looked over at Jack poking his head inside one of the choppers. "How much longer, uh, how much more do you need to see?" she asked, wanting to get back home.

"I want to check the condition of the few you've got up and running, then we can go," Sam told her.

Erin nodded, but stayed put as Sam joined Jack and Nathan as they went over every square inch of the choppers.

\---+---

Terence waited inside the mountain for Erin and the others to come back. Where had they gone? He went to find Kate but she shrugged and said something about planning for the attack on Millhaven. They acted as if they knew everything, while he knew nothing, and it made him extremely uneasy.

But it was when he tried to leave that the real shock came. The Mountain was locked down. No one could leave either. Terence did not want to take a chance of being remembered for wanting to leave, so he acted nonchalant and returned to his quarters. He was truly a prisoner with no access to his superiors. What was he going to do?

\---+---

Daniel dozed lightly against the wall. He was sitting on the end of the cot, with Markus' feet across his legs to keep them elevated. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but Markus needed the warmth of the extra blanket on him, rather than under his feet, more than Daniel needed to be comfortable.

His friend was sleeping now, and seemed quiet. A little color had come back in his face, replacing that stark white pallor he'd had when he'd come back. Daniel had given him three of the pain pills, breaking them up into a little water and he'd roused enough to get them down. That had seemed to help, and he had fallen into an easier sleep afterward.

The door opened from the guard station and the sounds of several booted feet approached. Daniel waited, and shortly Fukizaki and two guards came into view.

The Tok'ra's gaze went straight to Markus, and his eyes narrowed, not liking what he was seeing.

The guards let him in and stayed outside the cell. "What happened?" he asked, kneeling beside the cot and taking Markus' wrist in his fingers to count his pulse.

"Simmons' men took him away," Daniel said. "I don't know what happened. When he came back, he didn't recognize me at first. He was white as a sheet, and passed out. I gave him three pills, but he hasn't woken up since."

Fukizaki nodded once and finished his brief examination. He replaced the blankets over Markus, who had not stirred, and looked up at Daniel. "Fortunately, his blood pressure remains somewhat depressed, but has not significantly fallen, so I do not believe the bleeding is worsening. However, the fact that he didn't recognize you suggests that it has begun to affect his circulation."

He paused, looking troubled. "If he wakes and seems confused or frightened again, reassure him and try to keep him calm. I will return this evening. But in the mean time, I have a meeting. It seems that two of our prodigals have returned -- a Major O'Neill and Major Kawalsky -- from out west."

Daniel couldn't help a twitch at the news. O'Neill and Kawalsky were here? Which O'Neill?

The Tok'ra watched him closely, with a faint frown. Daniel murmured, "_Ta shel neth dakhor._"He had to use a Jaffa dialect word to say they were his friends, since Goa'uld had no words for being friends.

Fukizaki nodded once, appearing thoughtful, and left.

Daniel leaned back against the wall. Finally, things were starting. He couldn't imagine anyone at Thunder Mountain, especially Teal'c, letting the two majors out of the cells unless they were confident of their allegiance. But he suspected it was Jack here, not Major O'Neill. But even if it wasn't 'his' Jack, he was sure that the two had come back to help them escape.

He looked down at Markus' sleeping face, and hoped Jack and Charlie made their plans quickly.

\---+---

Jack paced his small room, wondering where Kawalsky had got to. It had been hours since he'd last seen him. He also wondered where Jennifer was, and if she'd managed to deliver his message to Devon.

He wanted to go find Daniel and Markus, or go straight to Devon. Or do **_something_. **He hated being here, right in the center of the enemy, and still have to depend on other people to do something before he could do what he wanted. Waiting for something to happen was driving him nuts, especially having heard the news.

He'd gotten one of his guards to confirm that Daniel and Markus were in the brig. The unfortunately-named Ernie had added that rumor had Markus at least hurt, maybe dying, and maybe already dead.

He opened his door, intending to go wander around and see if he might stumble into something useful.

Ernie and the other guy Jack called Bert were standing across the hall, and straightened up when they saw the door open. But then they glanced toward a young woman, a civilian with long curly dark hair, who was coming this way down the corridor. "Hey, Libby," Ernie greeted her with an easy smile.

She smiled back, but her smile faded when she saw Jack. She stopped and put her hands on her hips, and pouted. "I sure hope you were coming to find me."

"Um," he hesitated. Hadn't Kawalsky said he wasn't in a relationship? Crap. And with this girl, half his age? What the hell was O'Neill thinking? Maybe it wasn't … but no, her next words pretty much made it exactly what he was thinking.

She folded her arms. "You forgot," she accused. "You _said_ we'd get together when you came back." She came near him and poked him in the chest. "You can't have forgotten, Jack."

"I said that?" he asked. "Well, I -- "

She stood up on her tiptoes, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and kissed him. He couldn't do much but stand there. She pulled back a little, to give him a tight hug, and murmured in his ear irritably, "Play along, idiot."

Ah. Now he knew the role he was supposed to be playing. He maneuvered her into another, more aggressive kiss. She leaned against him eagerly, opening her lips. His own unexpected response made him deepen the kiss more than he intended. He knew he should let go, but he couldn't.

She pulled free, dark eyes bright with surprise and amusement. "Well, that's better!" she said with a light laugh. "I'm glad you're home. I was worried for awhile that something might have happened to you."

"No," he shrugged. "You know that O'Neill luck…"

"Really?" she challenged, teasing. "I don't know if O'Neill's gonna get lucky tonight, after almost standing me up."

The guards snickered, and Ernie said, "If you're not busy, I'm sure I could show you a good time, Libby."

Without turning around she said, "I like the mature ones, Ernie." And she put a hand on Jack's chest, smiling mischievously. He let her hand slide down to his stomach but then caught her hand up in his own, and tried to give her a winning smile, played for the guards' benefit.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was going to see you, I swear. I was just waiting for Charlie."

"Charlie," she said, with a little toss of her hair, "is not invited. Do you think you might do _something_ without your buddy for once, or you know, people are gonna talk."

"I meant--" he started in exasperation when Ernie and Bert couldn't restrain their laughter.

Libby rolled her eyes expressively and grabbed his hand. "Jeez, kidding, Jack. Lighten up." She glanced at the guards, who grinned back at her. "If you want to find him, I think you know where to look."

"Yes, ma'am," Ernie answered with a mock salute. "We'll escort you, if you don't mind."

She pursed her lips and gave a heavy sigh of minding very much. Then she shook her head. "I don't know what it is about the bad boys," she muttered, as if to herself. "Why can't it be someone who follows the rules?"

"Because you would get bored?" Jack asked innocently. She swatted him on the ass, surprising him, and chuckling, she put her arm around his waist and nudged him familiarly with her hip. "Come on, bad boy. Let's lead this parade." Then more loudly, over her shoulder, "I hope you don't have to lurk around outside all night. That might be …" she hesitated.

"Inhibiting?" Jack suggested, and pulled her close. It felt weird, this young woman he ought to know, yet not as well as he had to pretend he did. But he played along, hoping that this whole charade was going to lead somewhere interesting. And well, he had to admit, there were worse roles to play.

The instant the door of her quarters closed behind him, she pulled free and folded her arms. "Took you long enough to figure it out."

He was a little disappointed to find out she really had been acting.

"Sorry, you took me by surprise." He glanced around at her room. It was slightly bigger than his own, with a double bed, low bookshelf, straight chair, and a closet. The plain gray walls were mostly hidden by red and purple cloth to which she'd attached beads, sequins, pins, and gold charms. It was a nice splash of color for a fairly dingy base. He turned to watch her as she turned to sit on the edge of the bed, obviously not in invitation. He sat down gingerly on the cloth-draped wooden chair that looked like it might have been here since Mount Pegasus was built. "Now what?"

"Now? Now we wait until your watchdogs go away," she said. "Devon's waiting." She frowned at him in puzzlement. "Why do you want to talk to him anyway? You've never wanted to before."

"I have a message for him," Jack answered. "From his son." It was at least kind of true. "But mostly Kawalsky and I need his help to get Markus and Daniel out of here."

She burst into laughter. Since he didn't think it was funny, he waited for her to stop and demanded, "What?"

She shook her head in amazement. "You and everybody else. I never thought I'd see the day when Gordon came into the open against the brass, and now there's you two. Plus Jennifer, of all people," she rolled her eyes once.

Jack paged quickly through his memories of Lee and Charlie's run-down of Valhalla personnel. 'Gordon' had to be Gordon Fukizaki, the manager of the virus project and one of Waverly's inner circle. But from what the two had said, they had been too wary of Fukizaki for him to be an ally. "Doctor Fukizaki?"

She smiled, enjoying his surprise. "Oh yes, Gordon's been working against them all along in secret. But he had to step up to protect everyone's favorite prisoners from Simmons. At least, as much as he could." Her smiled faded, and he felt an answering tightness in his chest.

He asked the inevitable question. "How are they doing?"

"Daniel's fine," she answered, and added more quietly, her arms wrapped around herself. "But Markus is hurt pretty bad. Simmons had him beaten up two days ago, and broke his ribs. Gordon says… " her voice faltered and she looked down, "Gordon says he's bleeding inside. He says maybe if we can get him out soon enough, he can do something to help, but I don't know, I saw him today and he looked awful…"

Jack reached over and patted her knee, trying to offer a little comfort when she was so clearly broken up by it. Inwardly though, he felt chilled, as Mister Smith's words came back to him, that if Markus died, evil would rule the planet.

But they weren't too late, not yet. It seemed Markus had more allies in Valhalla Sector than anyone had expected, so the possibilities of escape were looking up.

He ignored the small voice which said that even if they managed to get Markus to the helicopter, it was a long hard flight back to Thunder Mountain and to people who had learned medicine by reading about it in a book.

Standing up, he started for the door. "Come on, let's get going, we don't have all year. I want to meet Devon -- "

She frowned but followed. "Meet? You know him."

He hastily covered his mistake, "Meet in terms of being on the same side."

"Wait," she squirmed in front of him before he opened the door, pulling her sweater off and tossing it to the chair, and then yanking her shirt out of her pants.

Only then did she open the door and peek her head out into the corridor. She grabbed Jack's sleeve and pulled him out.

Ernie and Bert were gone. The corridor wasn't empty, but there didn't seem to be anyone interested in guarding Libby's door. She held his arm and they strolled casually. Jack was tense, but no one gave them a second look. Fortunately, Devon's quarters were only about twenty feet down and on the other side of the hall. Libby opened the door and entered without knocking.

The room was the same size as Libby's, but looked different since he had a single bed, desk, and bedstead taking up space. It was certainly not as colorful, retaining the dull, flaking government-issue gray paint. There were metal shelves attached to the walls, holding books, and a half-eaten dinner tray on the desk. There was a man in the bed, sitting up against the headboard. He wasn't doing so great either -- his right arm was bandaged and in a sling, and his face was still multi-colored and swollen from bruising.

Because of the bruises it took Jack a moment to realize he knew Devon's counterpart. His jaw slackened and he stared, unable to believe what he was seeing. "**_You're_** Devon?" he blurted. "You?"

The man facing him was none other than cowardly prick Samuels, last seen at the SGC trying to flee Apophis' attack seven years ago and then thankfully replaced by Paul Davis as Pentagon liaison.

"Major O'Neill?" Devon asked, with a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

Jack shook his head trying to get back into focus. Clearly, while some people were worse here, others were better. Whatever had happened to turn Samuels into a military officer and an ass on Jack's Earth, had not happened here. Or perhaps the Big Death had given this Samuels an opportunity to find his courage, which he'd never had on Earth.

Either way, **_this_ **Samuels was still looking at him as though he'd gone nuts.

Jack grinned. "I wasn't sure at first," he said glibly, "All those different colors."

Devon let out a smile, and shook his head a little. "Yeah. It's better now, believe it or not."

Jack gave a dramatic wince and plopped down in the desk chair, as Libby settled at the foot of Devon's bed. The two men watched each other in silence for a moment, until Devon broke it by clearing his throat. "I hear you wanted to talk to me."

"Yeah. But before I start with that, you should know I spoke with Jeremiah two days ago. He says hi and he wishes he could've come here instead of me, but nobody thought it was a good idea," Jack said.

Devon stiffened at Jeremiah's name, and he stared at Jack, seeming to drink in every word. At the last part, he closed his eyes in relief. "Thank God. Somebody finally got through to him."

Jack snorted. "I think it was the threat to chain him to his bed in Thunder Mountain, myself. He was **_extremely_ **determined." He plucked the pen off the desk and bounced it on his knee, getting more serious. "Your kid is a good young man, Devon. You should know that. He's tough and brave and amazingly good hearted. He's spent the last fifteen years looking for you, and he turned aside from that quest when he understood what it could cost the world. _That_ takes some guts."

"How did you meet him?" Devon asked eagerly.

"Oh, we had this job for Thunder Mountain," Jack answered with a casual wave of his hand. "Infiltrate some bad guys, see what they were up to. The usual."

Devon opened his mouth, probably to ask more questions about his son, but said instead, "You really have changed sides."

"I don't think of it as changing sides, so much as … uh," Jack wondered what his other self would say, "allowing my natural side to finally show through. You know I've never been Waverly's biggest fan." Devon snorted agreement, so Jack figured his assessment of his counterpart was pretty much dead-on. Jack continued, knowing he had to make sure Devon understood that Jack O'Neill meant what he was saying, "And now there's someplace to go. But all those brave kids in Thunder Mountain are a ship with no captain now, and that's why Kawalsky and I came back. We need to get Markus and Daniel and you out. Libby said that the doc's also on our side, so with his help, hopefully we can all get the hell out of this roach motel."

He didn't like the way Devon and Libby exchanged a look. "That… might not be so easy," Devon said slowly. "Gordon said Markus isn't doing so well."

"All the more reason to get out of here soon, don't you think?" Jack asked. He leaned forward, eager to get the show on the road. "A person of our mutual acquaintance in Cheyenne said that you know of a secret way out of here."

"Yes, that's true," Devon admitted. "Unfortunately the way goes through the gym on the second floor."

Libby added, "It's currently being used as a temporary bunk room."

"Waverly pulled in the Eighth after St. Louis," Devon went on. "He wanted to take D.C., but Thunder Mountain took priority. So the base is pretty packed, as I'm sure you noticed."

Their way out had become a barracks. Charlie had already explained that this place was run like a ship, with the lower ranks alternating shifts and bunks because of the lack of space. Jack scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Crap. Is there no other way?"

Devon shook his head. "Not that I know of. But you've been here just as long as I have."

"I sure don't know of any," Jack muttered. If this place was Cheyenne he might have some ideas how to get out. But instead he would have to go to Plan B. "All right, we need to distract them out of the gym. Clearing the whole second floor would be better. We could sabotage the ventilation system."

Libby shook her head. "The whole bottom floor is under passcard restriction. If we went down through the air vents, we could get in, but..."

They went through his ideas and one by one, shot them down.

After half an hour of this, he let out a sigh. "You've thought about all this already, haven't you?"

Devon nodded, a little ruefully. "Yeah. Both of us, plus Gordon when he can, have been doing nothing but trying to figure out a way out. So far our best idea has been to set the base on fire and force a total evacuation. But getting out of the base isn't enough, since there would still be two thousand people around us."

"I'm not entirely without outside backup," he offered, "but those are really bad odds." Jack filed the idea in the back of his mind for further thought. Forcing a total evac might work, if that would clear the secret path. "In fact, it'd be really handy if I could access comms."

Libby laughed. "All outside lines are now restricted to the comm room and the general's personal approval."

"Yeah, that's what I figured," Jack nodded with a sour grimace. Too bad Waverly wasn't more like a Goa'uld -- that Goa'uld overconfidence and tactical stupidity would be quite useful right now.

Devon added unexpectedly, "Gordon might have a way. He should be here soon."

Jack nodded absently, trying to think of something that would work. But his mind stayed stubbornly blank, and the seconds and minutes clicked past in silence.


	25. Chapter 25

Terence fumed. He had to make some kind of connection with either Millhaven or Valhalla. So much was happening and he needed to report and get new orders. Maybe a live sat connection could be found up by the big board? They may have coded everything on the main floors, but would they have thought about upstairs? Did Markus even understand the importance of the main NORAD room?

He could have kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. All he had to do was get the phone from his quarters and get upstairs. He grabbed the master key, in case it was locked. Maybe no one had been in there since the Big Death. With a predatory smile, he made his way back to his room.

\---+---

Malek had been planning to visit Markus, when he ran into Major Kawalsky in the corridor not far from the brig. Kawalsky was being escorted by two of Simmons' men, he noticed, and that made him greet the major coolly. "Major Kawalsky. Good to see you made it back safely."

"Doc." Kawalsky turned right, still heading toward the brig. He noticed Malek following him and paused. "I got permission to visit the brig, Doctor, if that's what you're worried about."

Though surprised by that, Malek merely shrugged. "We're going the same place then. I have been tending Markus' injuries."

"You?" Kawalsky frowned. "I thought you were a virus doctor."

"That too, of course," Malek said. "But I was curious to meet him, so I volunteered." He glanced at the pair of guards and added, "Colonel Simmons has been overly harsh, in my opinion, so I do what I can."

Kawalsky didn't seem to know what to say to that, but he did frown at Malek some more.

_'We know about him, but he doesn't know about us. This is awkward_,' Chuan observed.

'H_e will figure it out once he speaks to Devon, Libby, or Jack_,' Malek said. '_I am highly curious about what he said to Waverly to get permission to visit Markus, however. Unless Kawalsky has not changed allegiance after all_.'

'_Then we must watch him and see what he does_,' Chuan declared fiercely, his protectiveness like that of a mother and cub at the thought of Kawalsky doing any harm to Markus.

They followed Kawalsky into the guard station room, where the two brig guards joined them and they all accessed the hall outside the cells.

It made quite a troop �" the four guards, Malek, and Kawalsky. The two prisoners were still sitting as they had been, with Markus lying down on the cot with his feet across Daniel's knees, while Daniel sat on the cot, with his back to the wall behind him.

Daniel glanced up and his eyes widened, seeing the group come to visit.

Malek was pleased to see that Markus was awake, too, and he turned his head and opened his eyes to see his visitors. Malek went inside when the guard unlocked the cell door.

Kawalsky folded his arms, trying for hostility, but Malek could read the shock and the dismay in his features when he had a good look at Markus. "So," Kawalsky said roughly, "You're the guy who turned Lee Chen."

"It wasn't very hard," Markus answered. Malek liked the strength of his voice, and the lack of breathing difficulties. The afternoon's rest had done him a lot of good. "I offered a vision of the future without the rule of terror and murder that Valhalla Sector has. He seemed to like it better."

"Lee bought that? You don't look all that impressive," Kawalsky tried to sneer.

Markus smiled a little. "Sorry, the spirit is willing, but the flesh … has seen better days."

"Yeah, I can see that." Kawalsky cleared his throat. "Doc, you done in there?"

"If you would stop attempting to provoke him, I will finish that much faster," Malek said, as he continued his examination. The very important blood pressure was holding steady and he found no new abdominal irritation. But his heart-rate had increased slightly, despite resting, and his fingers were cool to the touch.

"You're doing better," he told Markus, as he replaced the jacket and the blankets. Malek felt a little guilty for the lie, but not enough to tell the truth. He suspected Markus was having a hard enough time holding on to hope, without being confronted by the harsh fact that unless his situation changed very soon, even Malek's healing device would be too late to save his life.

_'He knows it's a lie', _Chuan said. '_But he needed to hear it anyway_.'

Malek saw that Chuan was right. Markus did look more relaxed, as though his body had gotten the encouragement, even if his intellect dismissed it. Malek stood and told Markus, "Just continue to rest. The president has ordered that you're to stay in here, so you should not be disturbed again."

Markus nodded and thanked him.

Daniel looked past to Kawalsky. "Besides gloating, did you have a reason to be here?"

Kawalsky shrugged. "I told Waverly I wanted to see the guy who got me shot at by my own men."

"Yes, it's amazing how many people believe in Markus' ideas, even in the most unlikely places," Daniel said.

Markus asked abruptly, "The doctor gives us the news he hears, but he hasn't heard anything from Thunder Mountain. You must have heard something."

Kawalsky paused and his fists tightened as he tried to think of what to say and fill Markus' very obvious need for news from home, without giving himself away in the process. Then, in a sarcastic tone, he asked, "Excuse me, do I **look** like the Thunder Mountain messenger service?" He snorted. "Right, I'm sure they all said to tell you to hang in there, they're waiting for you to come home, and shit like that. Though I did hear a rumor that some blonde girl wants to kick your ass for getting yourself caught," he couldn't help a grin at Markus.

Markus turned his head toward Daniel. "Told you she'd be angry."

Kawalsky's smile faded. "Though I guess she'd have to get in line, wouldn't she?"

Before the major could totally give away his sympathies, Malek made a decisive move for the front of the cell and had the guards open it. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised Markus and Daniel. "Both of you should try to sleep. The president has also ordered dinner be brought to you, so eat what you can. Come, Major Kawalsky," he took Kawalsky's shoulder in his grip and turned him toward the exit. "It is unseemly to gloat over one's fallen enemies for too long."

Out in the main cross corridor, while the guards were momentarily distracted by exchanging a word with the brig soldiers, Malek muttered for Kawalsky to hear, "Go to Devon's. Now." Then he said, "I will see you later, Major." And he walked away.

He knew that Kawalsky was still standing there, watching after him. He hoped the message had gotten through and they would all meet up at Devon's room.

\---+---

Jack gave the Asian-featured man a long look. So this was Gordon Fukizaki. The man who had worked himself into Waverly's inner circle, while also preventing any other Valhalla Sector scientist from stumbling onto the secret of the Big Death virus by secretly sabotaging his own work. And nobody had figured it out. The guy had to be incredibly clever with balls of steel to have kept it up over **fifteen years**.

He wasn't all that much to look at. Unexpectedly tall, slender build, black hair barely sprinkled with gray, and a face as still as a marble statue. It gave nothing away that Fukizaki didn't want there.

He'd entered Devon's room after a single knock. "Good evening," he greeted. "Good, O'Neill, you're here." He gave a polite nod to O'Neill that stilled when his dark eyes settled on O'Neill. "You look different."

Figured that this man would be the first to notice. O'Neill tried a casual shrug. "It's been an… interesting past week." This was not the time to go into alternate universe doppelgangers. Though O'Neill had the feeling the revelation would just drop into that stoic face and turn into something mildly interesting.

But Fukizaki accepted the excuse, leaning against the corner of the desk and folding his arms. "Major Kawalsky and I were just in to see Markus and Daniel."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Kawalsky was in the brig? How'd he work that?"

"I gathered that Waverly gave him permission in order to confront the man who got him shot at," Fukizaki said dryly. "It was a difficult conversation with Simmons' subordinates listening. And he did not know my allegiances so he was careful with me as well. But he should be joining us as soon as he loses his guards "

"So, you saw them?" Jack prompted, when he didn't elaborate on what Jack wanted to know most. "I hear Daniel's fine. How's Markus?"

Fukizaki's gaze dropped and he almost sighed. "Dying," he admitted. The word seemed to fall like a stone in the silent room. It lay there untouched for a long moment, until Fukizaki continued, "By Friday morning, most likely. Before that, if he slips into shock or Simmons manages to get hold of him again. There is little more I can do for him here."

"I have a helicopter on stand-by," Jack offered. "We can take him back to Thunder Mountain. They have a pretty well-equipped infirmary, but I don't know about their doctors."

Fukizaki gave a half shrug. "I can assist. I intended to accompany him in any case. Your helicopter will help, but the sooner we can use it the better. Have you three had any new plans?"

But nobody had any. Even when Charlie joined them and got inducted into the Fukizaki-as-good-guy group, he didn't come up with anything brilliant either. When Jack found himself suggesting the insane plan of drugging Markus into seeming death and then reviving him outside, he knew they were scraping the bottom of the idea barrel.

Devon chuckled, "Jack, y'know, it didn't work out too well in 'Romeo and Juliet'."

"The faking his death part worked fine," Jack reminded him. "It was afterward they were stupid." But he knew Devon was right, it would never work. He let out a loud frustrated groan. "Come on, people! There has to be a way."

Fukizaki said, "Just because you **wish** there to be a way, does not make it so, O'Neill."

O'Neill gave him a sharp look then shook his head at his own fancies. The guy had sounded like Teal'c for a moment.

Fukizaki added, "We appear to have only one choice �" we wait and hope a better opportunity presents itself."

"I don't like it," Kawalsky said. "I know you said Emerson's controlling Simmons, but we all know that won't last. And if Simmons thinks he's getting blocked from what he wants, he's going to get Waverly to order the sentence."

They were all quiet again, and Jack felt physically ill. Execution by burning alive. His own people �" his own military �"- were willing to do that. He had barely been able to believe it when the others had told him. Just when he thought he'd found the worst of this place, he kept finding more.

"We can't let them do that," Kawalsky finished.

"We will not," Fukizaki declared very quietly. "I will not allow him to suffer in such a way." His meaning was plain, that he would use whatever means he had at his disposal to make sure Markus' end was quick and painless.

But Jack knew it wouldn't matter **how** if Markus died. "He can't die," he said, more as an order. "He can't." He stood and turned away from their curious faces. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he said, "Don't ask me how I know this, but let's just say I've got it on very good authority that this whole party's for nothing, if Markus dies. I hate to be melodramatic and cryptic, but I **know** the end of that path, and you don't want to go there. So letting him die, letting the bastards here kill him, or mercy killing, are all equally out of the question. He gets out of here, alive. Period."

He turned back. They were all looking at him with various degrees of puzzled interest and amazement. Only Fukizaki was looking at him as though he understood something.

Jack had no idea what, but he didn't care. It was time they all took this seriously.

"Okay, we're going over it again. The secret way out in located in the gym, which has been converted to a temporary barracks. Let's say we get the soldiers out of the way, how are we going to get Markus from the brig, to the exit, and out in his present condition?" Then he waited as his new team came up with suggestions.

\---+---

"Ready to head back?" Erin asked.

Sam had seen all she needed to see and it seemed that the others had too. So they all returned to the car for the return trip to Cheyenne. The women settled in the back, and Sam said to Erin, "I was thinking -- I blocked the spy from being able to contact the outside, but what if I could listen in on them?"

Erin sounded enthusiastic, "You can do that?"

Sam regretted being so certain. "Maybe. It depends on what they leave in the open. But what do we have to lose? I can open and isolate the big board for access, keep out anyone else. Will you let me try?"

Erin nodded, still eager. "Go ahead. I'd love to catch **them** at a disadvantage for once. But, after dinner, we've got some plans to make first."

Back inside, Sam first got hold of Teal'c to find out how he was doing and to check on the colonel's progress. They spoke in Goa'uld to shield their words from Valhalla eavesdropping, and Sam was glad that Jolinar had left her that much.

"_Major Carter, it is good to hear your voice_."

"Have you heard anything from the colonel?"

"He _called this morning and said they had reached the target and were going in. He no longer has his radio, thinking that carrying it would be too dangerous._"

"Yeah, he's probably right. I just wish I knew how things were progressing on his end."

"We _must wait. Have you made plans to release the prisoners_?"

"Yes. "We attack early in the morning, tomorrow."

"_Understood_," he replied.

She asked, "How are you doing with your company?"

"_He is restless. He wants very much to rescue them himself and is impatient._"

"They're okay, Teal'c. We have to believe that they're holding on."

"_I do. What of the traitor? Have you identified him_?"

"No, no sign of him yet."

"_I wish you luck, Major Carter_."

"Thanks. We're really gonna need it."

\---+---

Jack was fired up as the time grew close to present his battle plans. Sam had contrived a radio conference near the communications room, and that way Jeremiah would be able to hear and contribute as needed.

The large table would hold each of the group leaders, who would later meet with their platoon and give out their assignments. It wasn't going to be easy; the recruits were young and untried. But they had a lot of heart and drive.

Sam met up with him as he walked to the conference room. Inside, Erin was talking to Nathan. Kate was sitting down with Tess and Andrew. Carl and Roberto came in right behind him and Sam.

Sam sat down at the terminal, while Jack sat at the table. Sam looked at her watch and then nodded to Erin. Erin took a seat as Sam punched something into her computer. Then the radio came to life.

"_Erin? You there?_" It was Jeremiah's voice.

Sam spoke first, "Ready to encrypt. In three... two... one." She touched her keyboard again. Then asked, "You still hear us?"

"_Loud and clear_," Jeremiah answered.

"Good. We're all here, and we're ready to plan our strategy," Erin spoke.

"_About time. I'm sick of sitting around looking at the bastards holding our friends._"

"Good," Jack interjected. "We're about ready to roll. This is the plan. Tomorrow, early morning, three trucks holding twenty soldiers each will pull out of the Mountain--say around four. These will hold the ground troops. Where do you want to meet up with them?"

Jeremiah answered promptly, "_Five miles west of Millhaven at the intersection of Baird Rd and Rt. 126._"

Jack found the spot on the map and nodded. "Okay. From there we'll hike in, separating into four columns. Three will come in at the front of the school and one from the rear. At your signal, we'll have at least three if not four choppers on standby, ready to swoop in and cover your entrance."

"_Who's leading these ground troops of yours_?" Jeremiah asked.

"Me, of course," Jack replied, not expecting opposition.

"I don't think so," Erin interrupted.

"What do ya mean?!" Jack barked back, shocked, and feeling let down.

"I can't let you lead the assault team," Erin repeated. "It's not that I don't trust you, but--"

"It sure sounds that way," he quickly retaliated, hurt.

"Maybe, but I can't let you go. Think about it. Who are we fighting against?" she asked, then didn't give him a chance to answer. "The military from Valhalla. They're men and women who may have been friends of yours. Can you in good conscience kill them, or will you hesitate and endanger one of us? I understand your loyalty may have switched from them to us, but we're not talking about that, but the people you'll be up against. I'm sorry, Jack. I can't put you, or us, in that situation."

Jack hadn't thought of that way. Most of the brass in Valhalla were all pricks, but it was true that the rest were generally okay guys, just following orders as they'd been taught.

Then Sam spoke up. "While I agree with Erin's point, there's another more important reason. We're sure Valhalla's in communication with Millhaven. The colonel and Major Kawalsky are inside trying to free Markus and Daniel, and we can't jeopardize their positions by letting Millhaven see another Jack O'Neill. Their safety depends on your staying out of sight."

Jack stiffened as he stared at her. He'd forgotten all about the other Jack at Valhalla and that meant he was grounded here in the Mountain. Feeling defeated by her logic he slumped in his chair, asking, "Okay, so who'll lead the ground team?"

"Jeremiah," Erin answered instantly. "Kate, you'll be the second in command and have control up to the time you all reach Millhaven, but then Jeremiah," she switched who she was talking to, "you assume control."

"_Me_?" Jeremiah croaked. "_I don't know how_\-- "

"You can do it, Jeremiah," Jack encouraged. "You know the ground. You know where the prisoners are. Each team has their job to overpower the guards and let the prisoners out. Radio back to the trucks and have them move in to pick up the prisoners coming out and then get the hell out of dodge."

"_And the helicopters will be firing down on everyone_?" Jeremiah asked.

"Not exactly," Sam answered. "Our job will be to keep reinforcements away from the school and taking out their guns. You'll have your hands full getting in and organizing a mob of scared civilians. And you need to be fast. Most of this hinges on speed."

"_I get it_," Jeremiah answered. "_Are_ _you guys any closer to finding the spy?_"

"Nothing yet," Jack admitted. He looked at the faces around the table and hoped it wasn't one of them, or this was going to go pear-shaped the minute they left the room. But the one face he suspected wasn't there, and that gave him some hope. He hadn't had time to follow up on his hunch yet, though it looked like he was going to get plenty of free time tomorrow, after all.

"So, are we all set?" Erin asked.

Everyone said yes and Jeremiah disconnected.

Jack looked over at Erin, expecting to see a triumphant look, or at least pleased with their progress, but she still looked troubled. "What is it?" he asked.

"What are we going to do with all those people? We don't have room for all of them here in the Mountain. And I don't think they should come here anyway."

"No problem," Jack answered. "Bring the one's needing medical attention up to the mountain. I'm sure some will want to be dropped off in Denver. But the rest, why don't you take them to Carson? We'll have drivers and vehicles ready to drive them back wherever they come from, so as to not let everyone know where Markus' headquarters are located." Jack felt pleased with his suggestion.

Erin agreed. Everyone got their assignments: Nathan, Sam and Berto to deal with the helicopters, and Kate, Raymond, and Carl to manage the trucks and choose assault teams.

But Jack had another chore in mind for himself. The spy. He had a trap to set.

He left the conference room and headed to the cafeteria. He walked into the big room, dodging the plants and people anxious to ask him questions about the upcoming rescue party. Terence wasn't there. While this was puzzling, it didn't worry him. It wasn't time, yet. He had to come up with a plan to make Terence trip himself up. A mere confrontation wouldn't work. It'd have to be both dramatic and be able to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt his guilt. Grabbing a cup of coffee -- God, he'd missed this stuff -- he sat down to think.

\---+---

Theo picked up her head to look around. Her neck was cramped. Her arms went to sleep hours ago and then her legs. Prickles made her writhe in pain whenever she moved. But she knew enough to keep moving, flexing, and stretching her muscles. This day had to end soon, yet the sun was right in the middle of the sky, mocking her. Yet, she blessed the sun for it had dried her clothes and she wasn't shivering anymore.

The town's people still came to stare at her and some gave her sympathetic looks. One girl came up to look at her curiously and popped a carrot into her mouth, allowing Theo to take a bite. Instantly a soldier appeared chastising the girl's foolishness in breaking the rules and she slunk off. While Theo couldn't see the guards, they were never-the-less watching her closely.

While wanting very much to spit the half-chewed carrot into the soldier's face, she was in no position to do so. Besides, the vegetable tasted pretty good, so she kept it in her mouth.

Time crept by until even the prickles were gone from her legs. Her body had slumped, held upright only by the stocks themselves. Then her misery was rewarded. A blond man with more white teeth than he needed and eyes like the sky meandered up to her. He bent close so she could see him. "We come in the early morning, Theo," he told her in a conversational tone, as though he'd just said hello, not delivered a message.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, not ready to accept the word of a stranger. A strangely old stranger at that. Up close, he wasn't as young as he seemed. If he'd been a kid at the Big Death she would eat her socks.

"Jeremiah told me," he answered calmly. As thin as he was, his voice was surprisingly deep.

A soldier instantly appeared as before. "Why are you talking to her?"

"I asked why she was being held thus. She replied, it was none of my 'fucking business. Go away.' I admit I'm puzzled."

She smirked. He was smooth, this guy. Nothing but puzzlement in his voice now, and though she couldn't see his face she'd bet those blue eyes were utterly guileless.

"Don't worry about it. She deserves everything she gets. See this?" the guard pointed to a large white bandage on his arm. "The little vixen bit me."

Theo's smile widened to a bared-tooth grin. "Come here and I'll give you a matching one on the other arm."

The pale man strolled off, but Theo refused to watch him go. Jeremiah was in the woods and help was just around the corner. By tomorrow, they'd be free. Maybe she should act more contrite? Having the news was great, but sharing it was better. There was lots of work they had to do. Probably the wisecrack about a matching bite hadn't been her best idea.

Everyone went away again. As she stood there, trapped in the pillory, she began to worry that the rescue would come and she'd still be trapped and killed during the mayhem. Would Jeremiah make the effort to save her? "Hey, you boys?" she screamed. "I've learned my lesson. I'll be real quiet now. Let me out of here!!"

Finally they did come. When they released the top bar, her body sagged to the ground. She couldn't stand on her own. This was bad. It would hinder her movement tonight.

"If you expect me to carry you--don't," the soldier told her spitefully. "There's no way I'm gonna touch you while you're alive. I do have permission to shoot you, though, so don't tempt me."

Theo found herself on her hands and knees, struggling for strength to stand up and walk back into the prison. Life sucked. She wobbled into the gym and had to concentrate hard to make it through the door. As they shut it, she slumped into someone's arms. As the person slowly lowered her to the floor she recognized Jo's face. Then Elizabeth was bending over her looking worried. Darkness tried to overcome her, but she fought; needing to speak. "Tell Tweedle Dum," she forced out, "Tweedle Dee is close." Her eyes closed and she fought harder to stay conscious. "Dawn," she whispered, although she wasn't sure if she actually spoke it or just thought it before she knew no more.

\---+---

"What or who are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?" Jolinar asked, puzzled. She'd never heard either word before.

"Tweedle Dum is Theo's nick-name for Kurdy," Elizabeth explained. "Tweedle Dee is Jeremiah's. Kurdy and Jeremiah are a team, and that's how Theo met them. Kurdy's been positive that Jeremiah would keep looking for as long as it took. I guess you can say Jeremiah is pretty tenacious when he wants to be. He butted heads with Markus quite a few times," she said with a reminiscent smile.

As she and Elizabeth carried Theo over to their place on the floor, she looked around and said to Rosha, '_We'll be rescued very soon. These people are not ready_.'

_'Yet, how are we to make them ready without calling attention to ourselves?'_

_'By making them realize how important it is to keep calm_.'

Kurdy stuffed his jacket into a ball to make a pillow for Theo. "What was she saying to you?" Kurdy asked.

Elizabeth looked up with excited eyes. "Theo says to tell Tweedle Dum that Tweedle Dee is close."

A slow smile spread over his face. "About damn time." He lowered his voice. "Did she give a time frame?"

"Around dawn," Jolinar answered for her. "It was the last thing she said as she lost consciousness."

"We'll be ready. Jo, start spreading the word," he told her.

The big doors opened and the soldiers brought in the trolleys of food. It was still a stew-type mixture, but Jolinar wondered how long it would last. Good thing they were leaving soon. She glanced down at Theo wondering if she'd actually seen and talked to this Jeremiah and whether Martouf was with him. She couldn't imagine him not participating in the rescue. In either case, once out of the gym, she was sure that he would find her.

Waiting until the food had been cleared, she told the select leaders of the help outside. Then she kept watch to see if anyone found it necessary to talk privately to one of the guards.

Dawn was less than twelve hours away.


	26. Chapter 26

Later that evening, after all the planning meetings were over, Erin needed a break before she sought her bed and some sleep. So she thought she would visit Meaghan, bring her dinner, and give her an update.

Meaghan was standing at the window when Erin went to see her. "You have news?" Meaghan asked eagerly, ignoring the tray Erin pushed through.

Erin nodded. She slouched down into the chair in front of the glass, worn out by the day and not much sleep last night either. "We found out where the rest of the St. Louis prisoners are. There's a small town called Millhaven, not even a hundred miles from here. It's apparently Valhalla Sector's western base, though why Valhalla brought them there is anyone's guess. But anyway, we're going in to rescue them first thing tomorrow."

Meaghan put a hand on the glass. "That's good. And?"

Erin looked up. "Did you know we have practically a fleet of helicopters down at Carson at the foot of the mountain?" she asked, abruptly.

Meaghan frowned and nodded once, "Yes, of course. Markus told me."

"He didn't tell me," Erin said. "Sarah knew. Nathan knew. Even **Lee** knew. But not me. Do you know why he would keep it from me? Didn't he trust me?"

Meaghan hesitated, considered her words, and answered, "From the beginning, Markus has been very concerned about the capabilities of this base. From the guns stockpiled to its ability to control nuclear weapons to, well, to me," she added, with a small self-effacing grimace, "this base has a lot of firepower. I'm sure you understand why it's not a widely known secret. But as for you, personally, I don't know why he didn't tell you. But I can guess he probably forgot."

Erin snorted. She appreciated Meaghan trying to make her feel better, but it didn't work. "Markus doesn't 'forget' anything."

"Anything that he can make into a number," Meaghan agreed, "yes, that's true. But he does tend to forget that there are real people in his equations. Unless somebody reminds him, he's just as happy to tell people only what they need to know to serve his purpose. And sometimes it just doesn't occur to him that they might want to know or _**deserve**_ to know, even if it's not really necessary."

Erin thought about that for a moment. She'd seen that in Markus herself, even been the one to remind him. She had wondered about it, since she also knew how much he cared about his friends and humanity in general. But she was surprised that Meaghan would know, and certainly that she would so easily talk about a flaw in the man she loved very much.

Meaghan shrugged a little with a rueful look, when Erin's astonishment showed on her face. "I've had fifteen years to get to know his faults very well. I love him, but I'm not blind, and he's never tried to hide them from me anyway. I try to rein in his calculating side, but it's not easy stuck in here."

She tapped the partition glass once and then gave Erin a searching look. "There's more. You're avoiding something else. Something about Markus."

"No, not really," Erin said, shaking her head. "Nothing specific. Jack and Charlie went into Valhalla Sector this morning. And now we just have to wait until they can access communications. There's nothing so far. I'm hoping they'll be able to get some kind of word out, at least tell us if… what Markus' condition is." She swallowed hard, and had to look away from Meaghan, worried that the other woman would read the truth of how much she felt.

A silence fell, growing progressively heavier by the minute. Erin knew that Meaghan's thoughts had to be as dark and worried as her own, and wished she could find something heartening to say. But she couldn't find the words, being unable to believe them herself.

Meaghan broke the silence herself, in a soft voice. "I've been anxious all day," she said. Erin glanced up, but Meaghan was looking off in the distance, her hand at the base of her throat. "I keep feeling that I can't breathe. And I know … I know he's hurt. That he's slipping away from me."

Erin didn't want to believe that Meaghan could feel any such thing. But Meaghan was so certain… And she'd been right when she said he wasn't dead before. Maybe she did know.

Maybe he really was dying. Maybe all this was going to be for nothing. Maybe she was going to lose him after all.

"You love him, don't you?" Meaghan asked, so quietly it took Erin a moment to rouse out of her fear and realize what she had said.

Her head jerked up guiltily and she stammered, "Oh, no, Meaghan, I -- that is, I'm -- "

Meaghan raised a hand to stop the nervous babble, and said with a sad half-smile, "It's all right. But you do, aren't you?"

Faced with the truth, Erin could only nod. "Since I got here," she confessed, not daring to look at Meaghan. "I just saw him … I heard him talk, and I … I couldn't help it. But I would never," she looked up and met the older woman's gaze, "ever try to get between you. Even before I knew you existed, I knew it was hopeless."

Meaghan shook her head slightly. "I think he would be happier, if he found someone outside the glass," she knocked once, lightly, on the window. "It would crush me," she admitted after a moment. "He's been my only companion for a very long time. But then I see the sadness in his eyes when he sees me in here, and I wish that he could be with someone else who could give him joy, not pain. Children. A future that's open, not trapped in a jar."

Erin had to swallow the lump in her throat. "It's not going to be me," she murmured.

"No," Meaghan agreed sadly. "I'm sorry. I would give him to you, if I could. But he won't go on his own, and I'm not strong enough to push him." She forced a little laugh. "We're a sad bunch, aren't we?"

"And if he doesn't come back, what are we gonna do?" Erin asked, sniffing once to push back the threatening tears. She wasn't going to cry. She'd done her crying. "He said that we were supposed to carry on, but how can I? I … God, I can't stand this -- "

"If he dies," Meaghan said in a suddenly hard voice. Erin glanced up again, surprised by the tone right out of her tears. Meaghan's eyes were like obsidian in winter. "You will open this door, and I will take Valhalla Sector down, touch by touch, if I have to kill the whole fucking world to do it."

Erin stared at her, shocked. She couldn't have just heard her say that.

"Do you understand me, Erin?" Meaghan demanded. "You may love him, but he is _**my **__**life**_, my whole reason for still existing. And if he's not here, if they kill him, then I will not care about anything but vengeance, if I have to claw my way out of here to make them pay. Am I clear?"

Erin nodded once, feeling chilled. Meaghan meant every word. She really would unleash the Big Death to avenge Markus. Licking her lips, Erin said, "He wouldn't want that."

"No," Meaghan agreed with frozen calm. "He wouldn't. But I would do it anyway. Because he would be dead, and nothing would matter anymore."

Erin stood up, and had to catch herself on the table when her legs threatened to fold. "It won't come to that," Erin said, trying to convince herself as much as Meaghan. "Jack and Charlie will get him out. You'll see. He'll come home."

"I pray you're right." Meaghan folded her arms tightly, tucking her hands in her sleeves. The cold flowed back into the hidden, shadowed place inside her, returning her to the woman that Erin knew. "Thank you for bringing me news."

Erin nodded. "Sure. I'll be back when I can."

Meaghan nodded back and waved her hand for Erin to go.

\---+---

Sam saw Erin returning from a visit with Meaghan. The other woman was pale. "How's Meaghan?" she asked, thinking that maybe there was something wrong in the isolab.

"Holding up, but she says she feels Markus is in trouble, that he's hurt. That -- he's slipping away," she added softly.

Sam lifted her eyebrows skeptically. But she didn't tell Erin how unlikely it was, when Erin knew that much herself. Both Erin and Meaghan were feeling their own worry, that was all. "The colonel's there now with Daniel. They're going to get out with Markus. You have to believe it."

"I'm trying." She cleared her throat. "Are you ready to go upstairs and try listening in?"

"Don't you have to do anything down here?"

"Yes, but I want to go upstairs with you. I want to hear if anything's being said."

Sam hesitated then gave a shrug. "Sure. It'd be nice having the company."

In silence the two women continued walking, occasionally looking at each other but Sam found she didn't want to intrude on Erin's thoughts. Instead, her own mind was going a million miles an hour. How could she connect to Millhaven without Valhalla finding out?

Erin went over to the door and found it opened readily. "It should be locked," she commented puzzled. "You were the last one in here. Could you have left it open?"

"No. I'm sure I left the room secure." Sam was glad she hadn't put away her handgun after the trip to Carson, as an uneasy feeling came over her. They walked in, but there was no obvious sign of an intruder.

"You think the spy's been up here?" Erin asked.

"If he has, then he has a master key or knows the code to get in," Sam replied. And considering what this room could control, that could be very bad. She sat down in one of the chairs and realized that the system was booted up, confirming that someone had been there. She looked around warily, chill creeping down her back. The room was open, with the computers on tables not desks, so she had a good view of the whole room. There was no place to hide. No one else was there.

Relieved, she turned back to the computer. The screen showed only a blinking red cursor. The traitor hadn't gotten very far. She smirked a little as she entered the passwords to access the communications system. Then she began to determine Millhaven's frequencies. Jack had given her a few to try, in case the brass hadn't changed them, but there was nothing. At first she kept an ear out for a noise not belonging to Erin's bored and restless movements around the room, in case the traitor came back, but soon the problem of locating the signal consumed all her concentration.

\---+---

Terence tried to flex his leg muscles, but as the ceiling beam below him creaked, he stilled. This hiding place was not the most comfortable, but had been easily accessible when he first heard the women outside the door talking. At first he was incensed that he'd been interrupted, but as he watched them come in and get the computer started, he realized his good fortune. He'd let them grant him access and then he'd get rid of them and use the computer to warn his bosses.

The Sam woman was directly below him. The crack in the tile afforded him a good view, but hopefully hid him from her sight. Plus he had been able to hear everything they said. Not that it was much. For a pair of females they were much too quiet. It wasn't natural.

What was she doing, he wondered, looking down. She was tapping the keys faster than he could remember their order, although he did remember the first word, or rather string of letters she used to get into the system. What was a selmak?

"Erin, I found it. I'm in!" she shouted, almost causing Terence to lose his balance.

Suddenly, Terence could hear Captain Davis talking with Colonel Simmons.

"_We put the bitch back in the gym with the rest of the prisoners," _Davis was saying._ "It took all my self control not to shoot her. What a piece of work. Did it get the desired response from Alexander?"_

_"No," _the colonel replied._ "He's proving to be quite resilient. Not only has he resisted all my interrogations, he's now enlisted the President into his fan club. Tomorrow, pull another one of the prisoners. A female. I don't care what you do, be creative, just make sure it looks good and send the footage to me. Is there anyone there you're sure is from Cheyenne?"_

_"I think so, sir. There's a pretty one who's friends with the Clarefield bitch. She seems softer than the others - like she didn't grow up Outside. I'll start with her."_

Erin joined the other woman. "Oh my God, he must be talking about Elizabeth."

She sounded distressed, Terence thought. Good.

"Sam? Why are you looking like that?"

Sam answered, with disgust, "I can't even tell you how much the sound of his voice makes my skin crawl. Simmons's one nasty, cruel, self-serving son of a bitch."

Terence smiled. If she knew his boss, then it stood to reason he knew her, too. When he killed Sam Carter, maybe he'd get a promotion. Then his thoughts of glory were interrupted.

Erin asked, "Can you jam it? Make sure Millhaven can't call Valhalla for help when we attack tomorrow morning?"

Terence grew cold. Jam the signals? No, they couldn't do that. He'd have to take action now. He had to make sure Valhalla came and cleaned out this rat's nest. Desperation made sweat begin to trickle down his forehead.

\---+---

Erin looked over Sam's shoulder, but not seeing the screen full of cryptic symbols and frequency information.

The words from the enemy who held Markus prisoner made her vibrate with fury. How dare he threaten Elizabeth now?

At least Simmons had said Markus was alive. But 'resilient' and multiple interrogations made the fear rise up in her chest. He'd hurt Markus. Meaghan's feeling haunted her, and she didn't know what to hope or believe. She walked away from Sam, fighting for self-control. Tonight they'd get the prisoners from Millhaven and maybe tomorrow Jack would call and say Markus and Daniel had been rescued, too. Inhaling a long deep breath, she turned to say something to Sam, when she noticed the ceiling tile move.

"Sam! Above you!" Erin shouted.

Almost in slow motion, Erin saw Sam tuck and roll out of her chair, grabbing at her ankle and pulling out a gun. A shot, from the ceiling, hit the chair Sam had just vacated only seconds earlier. Erin flinched as Sam returned fire.

"Get down!" Sam shouted, and a second shot came from above. Erin flung herself under the computer table, sliding in the dust.

Sam scurried after her, crouching, as the gun fired again, slamming into the corner of their table. "Erin?" she asked, "Can you use a gun?"

"Sure," Erin answered. Not that she'd used one in awhile, but before Thunder Mountain, she'd had to use weapons a lot, mostly to rescue her trouble-magnet sister.

"You need to cover me while I log off the computer. We can't let him get on."

Even though Sam whispered, Erin could hear her worry. Their whole rescue mission hinged on secrecy; they couldn't let the spy leak the info. Several more shots came from above, hitting equipment, but that was all right. Each inactive computer gave the spy less chance of calling out. Erin took the gun and fired, keeping the traitor's attention on her as Sam snatched the keyboard and brought it underneath to her lap.

She punched in keys getting out of each layer until Erin saw the screen go black. The man above must have become furious when he realized what Sam had done, because suddenly he began firing rapidly, hitting chairs, monitors and the floor. He wasn't even aiming anymore. Erin shot back and then it went quiet.

Sam and Erin exchanged glances. "You think I got him?" Erin asked, handing the gun back.

Sam shook her head. "No. Changing clips. He's waiting for us to leave so he can pick us off as we go for the door. He wants us dead."

"If he kills you, no one will ever be able to get back into the computers. Even him."

"I'm sure he doesn't mind. He's trapped here and knows it."

Erin shivered. They couldn't stay here all night, Sam was needed on the choppers. She looked around, hoping for an idea, when a horrible thought occurred to her. "Could he have seen the codes you put in and now just wants us to leave so he can access the computers himself?"

"I don't think so. The passwords would be gibberish to him, and I doubt he could remember them all."

Erin wanted to ask how she was able to remember, but didn't want to give their traitor any clues. Still, there were no sounds from above. Sam grabbed a mouse off one of the desks and heaved it across the room. They heard it clatter but no retaliatory sounds came from above.

Was he gone?

"Sam?" Erin whispered. "What if we use chairs as cover and glide them on the wheels towards the door?"

Sam nodded. It was a plan, not the best, but the best they could come up with. Sam checked her clip, as Erin brought two chairs from the other side of her and Sam did the same. Together, going very slowly, they rolled the chairs to the door. There was no movement above.

Erin was about to open the door, when Sam put her arm out, effectively stopping her. "He might be out there," she mouthed.

Erin waited, until Sam opened it, gun in front and then checked both sides.

It was empty.

\---+---

Terence fumed inside his room. He had worked on the computers for two hours for nothing before the women showed up.

Nothing had gone as planned. From the day he had realized Lee Chen had conflicting loyalties, he had been stymied at every turn. Lee was supposed to have been a partner, not another one of the enemy. Then Jack O'Neill. Now this. At least he had stopped the women from jamming Millhaven.

But that wasn't going to do much good, when Thunder Mountain was going to have the element of surprise. But he was stuck here and couldn't warn them.

Or, maybe not. What if he went on this rescue mission?

He left his quarters and went to find Kate. She might not tell him the particulars about the mission, but she wouldn't leave him here.

Kate was in the cafeteria, sitting by herself, eating an apple.

"Hi Kate," he said with a smile sitting down next to her.

"Terence, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you. The rescue is tonight and I'm supposed to pick the crews for the trucks. Are you in?"

Terence kept the feral grin from showing. "Definitely," he told her. Not only was he in, but this was his ticket out.

\---+---

Jack headed down the corridor, deep in thought. It was late and the mountain was quiet. The residents who weren't involved in the mission were at least in their rooms making an effort to sleep, but the anxiety level was running pretty high.

It had been decided that Nathan and Sam would escort the chopper team to Carson and lock themselves in. They would then get the machines prepped. With them effectively separated from the Mountain, no one would be able to sabotage the equipment or injure the personnel. They found four pilots and Nathan assigned himself to an Apache while the others flew the Hueys. Jack figured the Millhaven soldiers would be so shocked seeing the Apache it would give them valuable minutes of rescue time. With everything now completed, they could now rest and mentally prepare themselves for the attack.

Erin had locked the mountain down so only she and Sarah could open it again, then went to the communications room to talk to Jeremiah, or maybe to her room to get some sleep.

There was no way Jack could sleep. He had to make sure the army left unharmed and to capture the traitor. His next stop was the topside garage where the trucks were getting loaded, and the mechanics were going over the vehicles making sure they were still functional. With the traitor still loose, no one wanted to take a chance.

Jack's only worry was how to trap the spy before the troops left. He was pinning everything on the traitor being Terence and he would be screwed if he was wrong, so the sooner he found out the truth the better. But how to implement the plan? He needed an accomplice, one who could handle himself in a tight situation in case the spy realized he'd been made, and this person would have to be totally loyal to the Mountain. The only ones he was absolutely positive of consisted of Nathan, Erin, Sam, Kate and…

Turning the corner, Jack suddenly came upon two young men he had not thought to see again, sure they had been sent to St. Louis with the rest. Judging by the horror on their faces, they had probably been deliberately avoiding him.

Jack was hit by a brainstorm as he exclaimed, "Brian! Steve! Just the men I'm looking for." They'd be perfect for his plan. Here were two men he was positive were loyal to Markus. They had smiled in triumph when they'd captured him and Kawalsky, sure that they had tricked two of Valhalla's finest.

They made ready to bolt, when Jack grabbed both by the shoulders. They stiffened, no doubt seeing their lives pass before their eyes. Jack smiled encouragingly, as he hugged both closer to him.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya," Jack tried to reassure them. "In fact, I need your help."

That got their attention. "What do you want?" Brian asked.

"To catch the traitor. Are you guys in?"

"You know who it is?" Steve questioned, suspicion darkening his eyes.

"I have an idea. Terence."

Their eyes widened in shock. But they didn't immediately protest the idea, which gave Jack some hope that he was right.

"Do you know whose truck he's in?" Jack asked.

"Mine," Brian answered.

"Are you friends with him? Will he do something if you ask?"

Brian and Steve exchanged looks. "We're not friends. But we know each other," Steve responded reluctantly. "Are you sure about this?"

"No, that's what I want you to help me find out. If he's innocent, fine, all that happens is he stays here and keeps an eye out for the real traitor. But I think it's him. I want you to strongly suggest he stay here in the Mountain. Tell him you don't trust me, that you're the one who brought me in and you hate to leave the Mountain in my hands. Tell him you think I'm gonna strangle Erin, I don't care. Anything so he's not in the truck when you leave."

"Why don't we just throw him in the brig? The man's a murderer, he shouldn't be running around."

"In the United States, we don't condemn a man on a feeling," Jack gently chastised. "I'm not sure he's the one. Things just don't add up with him. I need him to betray himself, by catching him in the act, or having him come after me. If he's guilty, he's going to be pretty pissed at not getting out and being able to tell his superiors of the impending attack."

"So, you want to know how he reacts to us telling him he's staying here?"

"Oh, you betcha. You should make this _**suggestion**_ in front of lots of others so that he feels there's no choice but to agree."

"Why can't we let Terence go and we watch him and if he tries anything we stop him?" Brian suggested.

"Because Jeremiah's life will be on the line. This is bigger than just the Mountain's security. It has to do with Jeremiah as a pawn and the return of the Big Death." Why wouldn't these boys just agree and handle their assignment? Jack was getting frustrated with all the questions.

The mention of the Big Death did the trick.

"Okay. We'll do it."

Jack let out a sigh of relief. "I assume you're heading to the loading dock now. I'll be coming in a bit. I don't want Terence to know we've had any contact."

Thy nodded and moved off. Jack leaned back against the wall. Terence was going to be pissed at not being allowed to go. How would he handle it?

\---+---

Terence whistled as he entered the garage. The trucks were loaded with water, a small amount of food, blankets and other first aid supplies. He had participated in the loading of the medicines and bandages himself. They were to be in his truck along with one of their nurses, although he certainly wouldn't let her touch him. God, they had learned medicine out of a book.

He had his own small pack already loaded and he had included a radio so he could contact Captain Davis as soon as they were in range. Terence wasn't sure whether he should take over the truck and drive it straight into Millhaven, or whether he should call and let it all be a big surprise when they were met by Millhaven's finest. Both sounded satisfying.

The only down-side was that O'Neill was not going to be there. He'd heard that Erin wasn't letting him go. He had been looking forward to teaching that traitor a lesson.

The drivers were huddled together, talking quietly. The trucks were running; it was time to leave. Shivers of anticipations racked his body. He couldn't wait to get out.

"Hey, Terence," Brian called to him, breaking into his thoughts. "Come here, got a favor to ask."

Brian and Steve were standing with a few others. Terence hadn't dealt with either since they were recon, but he knew who they were. Brian was supposed to be the driver for his truck.

"Yeah?"

"Steve and I were talking with the other drivers and as we tallied who was going and who was staying, we realized that everyone who knows how the systems work is going. If something happens, like the air system shuts down, there's no one here to fix it."

Terence swallowed thickly. Shit. He knew what was coming. Raymond and Victor and then Kate came to join Steve. "And?" Terence refused to acknowledge what they wanted, frantically searching for a way out.

"Now you've said time and time again that you're no soldier and didn't want a position in Lee's security team, and since you're a really good engineer, maybe you should be the one who stays," Brian continued.

Kate intervened and Terence hoped she was going to veto this "suggestion." "Erin's got a whole lot on her plate. When I picked people to go in the trucks, I never considered the state of the Mountain. Maybe he's got a point."

Terence pounced on the fact that she didn't sound sure. "We're only going to be gone a few hours, maybe a half a day at most. Surely everything will be okay? Aren't the prisoners more important?"

"Yeah, but with so many of us gone, it'll give the traitor an excellent opportunity to sabotage the place. We need someone we can trust," Kate added.

Terence looked to Raymond, to see if he'd counter his fellow councilor. But he saw no help there. Raymond's arms were folded and he was glaring at Terence with a very unfriendly expression. Terence wondered if Raymond suspected something, but it was probably just because Terence was refusing to do as he was told. Raymond was Markus' lapdog, and thought everybody else should be too.

"Plus that old guy," Steve chimed in. "Can we really trust that gray-haired guy here? Is Erin safe? I think she actually trusts him. I heard he's got a master key."

Terence started. He thought he was the only one with a key. Lee had gotten his from Simmons; had there been another one here in the Mountain? Did Markus have one that he gave to O'Neill? "I can't believe Jack would hurt Erin. I've met the guy; he seems nice enough and acts like he really wants to help us. Can you really afford to leave me behind? Don't you need everybody to help release our friends?"

Brian looked at Kate, and she looked to Raymond, who shook his head once. Terence knew that she and Raymond rarely agreed on anything, so he had a faint hope she might disagree with him on principle. But she took a deep breath and answered. "Terence, I guess you should stay."

A well of fury tightened his chest. Fuck.

"Markus," she continued, "told Erin to keep his home safe. It should be our first priority. I'm sorry I didn't think of it first. Terence, please stay and keep a close eye on Jack and make sure nothing happens."

He let his shoulder slump in defeat, while his heart raged. "Let me get my pack out of the truck," he asked, thinking of the radio tucked away.

"Okay campers! Time to roll!" Jack O'Neill blasted into their private discussion, coming up next to Terence.

"That's okay, Terence," Brian consoled. "Nothing'll happen to it. I'll make sure you get it when we get home. Just a few hours, right? See you soon!"

Terence watched in impotent fury as everyone got into the trucks except him and Jack. His knife was strapped to his calf. All he had to do was bend over, pull it out and bury it into the fucker's heart.

The trucks began pulling out through the big blast door.

Time was running out. He had to make a decision. If he took O'Neill out right now, he could grab one of the Rovers and chase after the departing convoy and still be able to warn Millhaven. His fists clenched at his sides as caution warred with the need to act.

The big doors began to slide shut. They were conveniently alone. No one would see if he slipped his knife between O'Neill's ribs.

O'Neill made a step towards him, grabbing his shoulder.

The feel of O'Neill's hand on him made Terence snap. He bent over, retrieved his knife and smoothly brought it up to plunge into O'Neill's chest. Despite the major's age, he moved exceptionally well, as he pivoted and the knife only sliced a bit of his shirt. O'Neill let go of his shoulder and backed up, facing him squarely. He didn't seem at all surprised by Terence's attack. The bastard had set him up.

"Why'd you do it?" Terence demanded. "How could you betray your country for this bunch of rebels?"

O'Neill watched him with an unflinching gaze. "This is the country, Terence. I'm just sorry I took so long to figure it out."

Terence lunged forward, aiming again for a vital organ. O'Neill effortlessly backed up evading the point. "I bet you plan on taking over for yourself," Terence accused. "You and I both know Markus will never leave Valhalla alive. With Erin's trust, you're a shoe-in for military advisor and from there it's just a step away from total control."

O'Neill sneered, "A plan worthy of a Simmons' stooge. But if any place is falling, it'll be Valhalla Sector."

"Traitor," Terence retaliated with another lunge forward, but this time O'Neill did not back up. With a neat sidestep he grabbed Terence's arm and cracked it over his knee. The knife dropped to the ground and he kicked it to the other side of the room.

The young soldier's face flamed with anger as he brought his other hand up and punched O'Neill in the face. As the older man staggered, Terence leaped toward his knife.

A shot rang out, surprising both combatants.

Erin stood at the inner door, gun in hand. Terence felt a burning in his chest and he brought his hand up and found a hole with blood rushing out. The bitch had shot him. He turned incredulous eyes on her.

She looked coldly back and walked over to him. "That was for Kristen." She shot him again. As the pain overwhelmed him, the last thing he heard was her murmuring, "And that's for the rest of us."

\---+---

"How long have you been there?" Jack asked, fingering the hole in his shirt. Small drops of blood stained his hand.

"Long enough," Erin answered, finally lowering her handgun.

Realizing there was nothing he could do about it now, he went over to her, noticing that she was shivering. "I thought you were in the communications room talking with Jeremiah?" Jack asked, looking at her with worry. She shouldn't be here.

"After you had your talk with Brian and Steve," she told him without expression, still staring at Terence's now-lifeless body. "They came to talk to me."

"Oh."

Finally her eyes left Terence and turned up to him. "You should have told me, Jack."

He winced slightly. "You didn't bring me here. This isn't your fault. I'm a part of Valhalla and so is this garbage." He nudged the dead body with his foot. "It's up to me to clean up the mess, not you."

"I'm not some delicate flower," she exclaimed, letting some of her anguish escape. "In fact, the other Jack said that in his reality, I'm a major in the Air Force and a damned good pilot. At first it scared me, but now I can see myself doing it."

"I am woman. Hear me roar," Jack teased, then regretted it the instant her face closed in anger.

Erin made a fist and punched him in the chest. She was stronger than she looked. "I don't appreciate the sarcasm," she retorted, but seemed more herself. "Now, you want to clean up the mess, feel free. I'm going down to hear how my soldiers are doing."

She marched off with a straight back and tons of dignity. Jack eyed her with appreciation, until the door closed. Then he looked back down at the body and heaved a sigh, "A man's work is never done."


	27. Chapter 27

**March 25**

The night had been long for Jeremiah. Marty kept up a dialogue without much help from him, but Jeremiah felt a little better listening to his calm voice. One part of him wanted everyone to arrive now and get it over with. Another part was nervous about being the one in charge. He didn't know squat about deploying troops or recognizing a good battle plan from a bad one. He had only done things for himself.

"Do not worry, Jeremiah. I will help and I believe Theo will be an asset," Marty reassured him. Again.

"I hope she could pass the message on." That was another bad thing hanging over the plan. Torture. Had they tortured anyone else? Killed anyone? Theo had looked in pretty bad shape, although knowing Theo she probably had brought it on herself.

Jeremiah took another deep breath, anxious for the trucks to hurry up and arrive. It felt like they had already wasted twelve hours and--

"I see lights ahead," Marty broke into Jeremiah's thought.

The two men stayed hidden within the trees until they could see the outline of four large military style trucks coming towards them.

"Those vehicles are the kind that transported my mate," Marty told him. "Are they from Thunder Mountain?"

"Wait," Jeremiah cautioned. "If they are, they'll stop."

The trucks lumbered down the road, stopping at the intersection. A woman stuck her head out of the passenger side of the lead truck. "Jeremiah?" she called.

"Hey, Kate," Jeremiah called back, pushing out of the overgrowth at the side of the road. "What took you so long?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "So, where do we park these monstrosities?"

Marty had shown Jeremiah earlier that night a side road off of Baird that ended at a forestry cabin. Plenty of room to turn around in and then wait for the signal to drive closer to Millhaven after the prisoners had been set free. Jeremiah wasn't sure yet whether bringing the trucks into town was a good idea or not, but having to walk to the trucks while Millhaven was assembling a counter army had sounded worse.

Jeremiah and Marty started down Baird, walking, while the trucks followed behind. The turn off wasn't that far ahead, and it only took about ten minutes to find it. The dirt road was fairly hidden and being on foot with the headlights behind them was a definite asset.

Once the trucks were settled, the drivers instructed to stay and monitor the radio. Kate jumped out to talk to Jeremiah.

She looked pointedly at Marty. "And who's this?"

"I am Martouf," he answered, then added with a rueful smile, "but Jeremiah insists on calling me Marty."

"Welcome to the party," she acknowledged. "My people are waiting."

"Then let's head out," Jeremiah answered. "We'll walk most of the way in. When we're about five minutes away, we'll radio and have the choppers dispatched. When we hear them coming, we'll contact the trucks, have them start rolling in. Then as a unit, we'll descend on the school and the choppers will cover us. Sounds good?"

Kate nodded and made all the new soldiers form five groups.

"When we get to the school," Jeremiah pointed at group one, "you guys will take the left side." He pointed at group two, "You'll take the right. Both moving toward the front." The third, larger group was instructed to cover the back, but to wait until the others entered the front, to draw off the guards on the back. "Kate, you go with group three, since they're the ones that'll probably find the prisoners and lead them out. I'll be in front coordinating most of our firepower, and Marty will be with you, since he knows where to take people if this plan gets fucked over."

With everyone in agreement, Jeremiah radioed the mountain and told Erin that they were ready to leave and to have the choppers on standby.

\---+--

Sam felt like she was being torn in a million directions at once. Everyone needed to ask her opinion or for instructions--anything to help ease their nervousness. Each Huey had been equipped with guns and as much ammo as they could carry. Since they only had four pilots in residence, it severely limited the quality of air support they would be able to contribute. But, since they were only covering the perimeter of one school, Sam believed--hoped--it would be enough.

She had volunteered to fly, but in the end, she and Jack had decided that her expertise at actually firing from a helicopter was more important. They weren't sure any of the other gunners were going to be able to hit anything from the air. The plan didn't call for pinpoint accuracy, but anxiety about not hitting their own people was going to make the gunners hesitant. She was prepared to take over for her pilot if necessary.

The ceiling had already been retracted and the choppers fueled up. The guns were ready. All they needed was the call to tell them to lift off. It was a short flight to Millhaven and Jack had given Nathan explicit instructions on the best way to approach.

With a few minutes of down time, Sam couldn't help thinking about this reality's Jack O'Neill. He'd seemed a very different man at first, but now, he seemed more like the colonel she knew. Was she getting used to him, or had he changed under their influence? Would he revert after they left? If they left. God, she didn't want to even think they might be stranded in this reality. Hadn't Mister Smith seemed to imply they would get off the planet and make it back to the world with the tuning arches? Yet they were no closer to obtaining the needed naquadah and kept getting roped in to helping the people here. Not that she regretting giving them assistance, but they needed to focus on getting home and that meant--

The radio beeped. _"Nathan! Sam! Power up, and let's go_!" Jeremiah called.

As one, each helicopter's engine roared to life. Sam listened and they all sounded fine. No one had sabotaged them.

Sam put on her headset and jumped into the last chopper taking off. Nathan was taking lead and hers would be flying slot. The other two would be a bit in front and flying wing. They would hold the diamond formation until just before the attack.

Excitement curled in her stomach. This would be the first step in correcting the wrong that had happened in St. Louis, although they were no closer to getting Daniel and Markus back. It was however, a step in the right direction.

\---+---

Theo finally regained consciousness to find everyone hovering over her. "What time is it?" she asked, sitting up and finding out how stiff she'd gotten. She stretched her arms and cracked her neck, amused when the sound made Elizabeth scrunch up her face in disgust.

"It's almost morning," Elizabeth told her quietly. "You've been out of it for almost seven hours."

"I needed the sleep, if I'm gonna be able to do my share. I take it it's still quiet?"

"No alarm, yet."

Theo let a feral smile cross her face. "Good. Have you told everyone?"

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth affirmed.

Theo looked around. Most acted like they were sleeping, but there was a restlessness in the air. She was very good a picking up vibes and her instincts were screaming that the time was almost here. Jeremiah was outside, gathering his troops, getting ready to burst in and release them all. "How's Kurdy?" she remembered to ask.

"I'm just fine and I can answer for myself," the man in question spoke from behind her.

Theo turned around to see Kurdy sitting up, with Jo-Lynn asleep next to him. He shrugged his shoulders. "She said to wake her when the 'time is upon us'. Guess she's just resting up."

Elizabeth gave a little laugh. "Between your slang," she indicated Theo, "and Jo's lack of it, it's really hard to know what anyone is talking about."

Theo didn't believe she talked any different from, say, Kurdy, but she did agree that sometimes Jo sounded strange. Whenever she'd tried to question the other woman about her past, the conversation always turned away, until Theo had forgotten she'd asked anything. Jo was good. Maybe when they got out of this rathole, she'd make Jo-Lynn give them the real low-down.

\---+---

Jeremiah slipped in next to Gabriel.

"All set?" Gabriel murmured.

"Yep," Jeremiah replied, taking out the field glasses and gazing at the school. Everything still looked quiet. "Just waiting for Kate to call and tell us Marty's joined them." Marty had stayed with Jeremiah in front, helping to evaluate the Millhaven positions, making sure they were unchanged, and then hiked around to the rear again.

The radio clicked. "Jer? Kate. Marty's here. We're ready."

"I'm in position. Waiting." Waiting for the helicopters, in other words.

"Copy that," she answered.

Jeremiah next radioed the choppers. They had an ETA of three minutes. It was the longest one hundred and eighty seconds of his life. Dawn was still an hour away and the chill ate through to his bones.

Then he heard them. "Let's move," he called both to the people beside him and the left and right flanks over his radio. With careful precision and guns with their safeties off, the Thunder Mountain Regulars began their first assault.

\---+---

Sam peered through the scope on her target. So far, Jeremiah's charge had only provoked attack from the soldiers already positioned at the school.

Nathan had the lead and cruised his Apache like a giant, menacing bat over the top of the school. His forward guns blasted into the big gun on the roof, eliminating the largest threat to the entire operation. Suddenly the outside lights blared on, illuminating the surrounding grounds. Sam felt her own chopper turn toward the town as the lights there also came on and soldiers, half-dressed, poured out of houses. Most had guns, but others ran toward what was probably an armory.

"Turn a bit north," Sam directed into her headset. Her pilot obeyed and she targeted the building with her grenade launcher. A big fireball leaped to the sky. "Bulls-eye!" she laughed. Too easy.

The gunner next to her fired a round causing some new additions to the fray to run for cover. Sam added her own, which made them retreat. They had to be rethinking their path to the school. The street they were monitoring was the most direct, but cutting across darkened lawns was also going to be an option for them. Raining another shower of shots across several backyards, Sam happened to notice someone pulling out a missile launcher from a garage.

"Everybody watch your tails -- they've got shoulder missiles!" She shouted, and swung her gun trying to take it out. She fired rapidly, but on single-shot so as not waste ammo, and finally succeeded in pinging the shooter in the leg, so he dropped the launcher. Her clip emptied, and she held her hand behind her for a new one to jam into the base of the MP-5.

A missile shot from another chopper went wide and took out a building. Sam's pilot did an excellent job of maneuvering to give them the best possible targets. Reloading her gun, she scanned the ground for another group trying to find their way to the school.

\---+---

Jolinar woke abruptly and jumped to her feet, all senses alert. It had begun.

Kurdy lazily opened his eyes and stared at her. "They here?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, head tilted, listening. Helicopters and shortly gunfire.

Soon it became apparent to all. Guards ran out the doors, yelling orders to each other, leaving the prisoners unattended. Everyone began bunching up, assembling into their groups, Jolinar noticed with satisfaction. Suddenly a voice came over the loud speaker.

"Stay where you are. This is just a drill."

"Drill, my ass," Theo snorted in disbelief.

"I repeat, do not worry. No one is at risk; we will protect you, but please stay quiet."

By now everyone was wide-awake and waiting in their prearranged groups. Kurdy looked much better, no fever, but his arm was weak and he wouldn't be much use in hand-to-hand combat. Theo was showing no ill-effects of yesterday's ordeal and appeared eager to join the battle.

Hearing the rattle and thunder of gunfire exchanged in close quarters out of their sight made every muscle tense. Their allies were out there, trying to get in, and the prisoners were trapped inside this fence, easy targets if the Millhaven soldiers returned and turned their guns on the captives.

She eyed the fence, knowing she could climb it and heal up any injuries they sustained.

'_The others would try to follow us,'_ Rosha told her. '_And they can't heal as we can. We need to wait.'_

Jolinar drew in a deliberate breath and settled her physical reactions, knowing Rosha was right. She wasn't the only one who was anxious -- her peripheral vision held the images of many humans standing stiffly, heads cocked a little to listen. But Theo stood still, not tense, glaring at the far door as if she could will it to open and disgorge allied troops. Kurdy had a hand around Elizabeth's shoulders, hugging her tightly to him as they waited. Jolinar had no doubt that he was planning to push her to the floor, if the wrong people came in.

The noise of battle and shouting drew closer, and she found her gaze on the fence again, but she didn't move. Then the gunfire stopped and there was some more incoherent shouting -- none a voice she recognized.

"Over here," a feminine voice shouted from outside, in the hall.

The door crashed open. Four soldiers in green camouflage clothing entered the gym, one woman and three men, their guns high and ready.

"Kate!" Elizabeth cried in recognition.

Jolinar smiled as the woman commanded the men to break the lock with an ax, as if they needed the direction. It took only four blows before the chain was severed and the door swung open.

"Everybody out," Kate commanded, and without further encouragement, they began exiting through the narrow gate.

Surprisingly, Theo didn't rush out, but stayed behind, directing and making the others follow the plan when some might have trampled those in front in their hurry. At last it was only their group, Kate embraced Elizabeth and told them to hurry.

Others from the Thunder Mountain rescue team lined the halls, providing protection from any errant Millhaven guards. When they came to the door to the outside, a tall, brown-haired young man was standing next to her beloved, pointing the way they had to run. Kurdy went up to the man and barked, "What took you so long?" before demanding a gun. Both men wore silly grins for a second before their faces cleared and they became warriors once again. So, that was Tweedle-Dee.

Her attention returned to Martouf as he grabbed her hand and squeezed. Jolinar had to rein in her emotions so her eyes didn't glow and cause unnecessary fear in the Tau'ri.

"Come on, Marty. You can do the kissing stuff later," his companion teased.

Jolinar lifted an eyebrow and smirked. Martouf shrugged and the two followed their new friends to safety. Jolinar let the door close behind them as they took off at a fast run across the open field. Three helicopters were shooting in the distance while another circled above them. Jeremiah waved, and the helicopter followed them until they hit the trees.

Deliberately Jolinar and Lantash began to lag behind, letting the distance grow with each step they took. Then they made a quick ninety degree turn and disappeared into the darkness.

"Is the ship close?" Rosha asked, her hand closed tightly on Martouf's arm.

"The tel'tak is about a mile northwest."

They broke into a jog, anxious to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the two Tau'ri factions.

\---+---

Sam stared in shock as the chopper circled around the last bunch to leave the school. They wanted to make sure none of the prisoners were followed by soldiers making a last ditch effort to reclaim their hostages. While everything pointed to them having gotten away cleanly, that wasn't what had captured Sam's attention.

Her eyes were totally focused on a man and a woman running behind Jeremiah. She couldn't believe what her eyes were telling her. The man, Martouf, was easy to recognize. His blond hair and good looks was the same in this reality as it had been in hers. Absently she realized that Jeremiah's "Marty" had to be him.

However, it was Rosha's image that had rocked her. The woman's likeness existed only in her broken memories left behind at Jolinar's death. Was Jolinar with her? Sam felt frozen, yet she burned to jump out and talk to the Tok'ra. Their presence was so unexpected. Why were they here?

Sam was jerked back to awareness as the other gunners shouted in triumph. They had won. Now it was time to meet at the rendezvous point and decide who needed immediate transport to the Mountain.

\---+---

Jack sat back, feeling the same relief as Erin at the news. The prisoners were free. Jeremiah had produced a miracle. A grin refused to be suppressed.

"Are you really pleased?" Erin asked him, looking worried.

"Of course," he replied, trying to look reassuring, but he knew what she actually meant. He had helped bring about the defeat of his own people; soldiers he had trained with, lived with, and should have had his loyalty. Yet they didn't. He still cared about some of them, but the majority were only faces.

"What are you going to do now?" she kept at him.

In defense, he shot back, "You trying to decide whether to throw me back in the brig?" She flinched at his harsh words, making him both feel guilty and then mad for feeling guilty.

"No, honestly, that didn't cross my mind. The spy's been caught--"

"Yeah, but Millhaven knows that Thunder Mountain was behind it all. You need me here in case of retribution. Plus, I promised to go fishing with Markus when he gets back."

She gave him a weak smile. "Markus doesn't know how to fish."

"I can teach him. It's not hard."

"That's what he said."

But her questions got him to thinking. What _**was**_ he going to do? He had to assume the other Jack O'Neill and Charlie would rescue Markus and come back. Where would that leave him?

He couldn't stay here, it would kill the fake Jack, and he didn't want to be responsible for that. He'd have to be the one to leave, but go where? Valhalla was out of the question. He'd seen and been a part of something so much better. There was no way he'd put himself back under Simmons' and Waverly's power again. He'd be better off on his own--at least until the others went back home.

"Eagle's nest calling the bird, do you read?" Erin called into the radio.

Lee's voice came over loud and clear. "_I'm here. How'd it go?"_

"They're on their way home with a full cargo," she told him.

"_Did we lose anyone_?" Lee asked.

"Nope. Two seriously hurt, plus Kurdy got shot in the arm in St. Louis. We're flying them home."

Lee sighed audibly in relief.

"Have you heard from the others?" she asked, meaning Charlie and the other Jack.

"_Nothing, yet. But we'll let you know as soon as we do._"

She signed off. Despite the rescue she still looked strung out from worry.

He felt compelled to help reassure her. "Hey," he awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. "If that other Jack is like me, he won't give up until Markus is out of there. I-- uh, _**we**_ \-- never leave our people behind."

\---+---

Jeremiah was surprised how glad he was to see the main doors of Thunder Mountain come into view. For a long time he'd been out on his own, and then Thunder Mountain had happened. But it had still been little more than a comfortable place to sleep. Now though, something had changed. Hearing those doors close behind him came as a relief, not as confinement.

He went below as soon as he could, and headed for the infirmary. Without knocking or asking permission, he went in. He grinned to see Kurdy sitting up and looking hopeful.

"You come to get me outta here?"

"Just got in," Jeremiah replied. "Haven't even seen Erin yet. I think you need to get permission from the blonde tyrant first."

Kurdy shook his head and chuckled. "Nah, Erin's easy. It's Elizabeth that's difficult. I wouldn't be here at all, except she made Sam promise."

Jeremiah hopped onto the foot of the bed. "How's your arm?"

"Good as new. I'm ready to go get Markus out." Kurdy said the words boldly, but Jeremiah noticed he wasn't moving from the bed.

"It's being taken care of. You concentrate on healing up."

Kurdy stared at him. "Is this you talkin'? Not go to Valhalla? It's all you ever talked about for months. Ad nauseum, I might add. And now all of a sudden you're backing out. It doesn't sound like you."

"I can't go, Kurdy," his voice broke. "I'll get used against my dad."

"Harsh, man."

"Jack said he's going to get my dad out, too. So... at least there's that," Jeremiah said, trying for casual. He didn't want to pin all his hopes on it. Life had a way of taking stuff away.

"That'd be great," Kurdy said, but not with excessive enthusiasm. He knew how it was. "So how did the extraction go?"

"Pretty good," Jeremiah answered. "Nobody killed. Only a couple of people hurt, though I hear Kevin's in bad shape." He waved vaguely toward the other ward where Tess was busy. "And the choppers are still functional."

"Not bad. And you led it." Kurdy chuckled and shook his head. "The world is truly a fucked up place, you notice that?"

"Yeah, I did, smart ass." But Jeremiah's amusement dwindled away. "Erin tell you she got the traitor? Terence. He wanted to go scout Millhaven with me. But the other Jack figured it out and stopped him."

Kurdy's good hand clasped his shoulder and squeezed briefly. "Good thing, or we'd all be in deep shit, huh? More than usual I mean."

They both heard footsteps, and in a moment Erin came into sight.

She gave him a warm smile. "Heard you were back," she greeted Jeremiah, "Good job. And how's the patient?"

"Ready to leave. Is Elizabeth back?" Kurdy asked, looking anxious.

"Not yet," Erin responded. "She's taking Elena back to Arizona."

"Alone?" Kurdy asked, sounding appalled and making a move to get off the bed.

"Of course not," Erin answered. "There's a whole parade." She smiled, teasing him, "She says she's been with you for the past week, and she wanted to let Jeremiah have his turn listening to you whine about your boo-boo."

"Remind me to give her my thanks when she returns," Jeremiah said wryly.

"So tell me about ," Erin asked, pulling up a rolling chair. "I heard from Nathan, but he had to bug out early."

Jeremiah turned to listen, curious as well.

Kurdy paused, bit his lip, and looked away. "I left him," he admitted. "They were firing at Elizabeth and I jumped to get to her. Jo-Lynn tried to help us escape, but they shot at us, nicking me in the arm, so we surrendered. I couldn't take the chance they'd hit Elizabeth next. Before we were carted off, I saw Markus and Daniel get taken in the helicopter. God, I'm so sorry."

Erin cocked her head a little to one side and she looked rueful and sad. Her voice was kind. "Kurdy, do you honestly believe Markus would object to you trying to protect her over himself? You followed your heart, and he would never blame you for that. Okay? Besides, it wouldn't have helped. You'd just be one more body for Jack and Charlie to get out of Valhalla Sector."

Kurdy nodded, but didn't seem convinced. Jeremiah knew that Kurdy would be fine as long as Markus came back -- but if he didn't, it was gonna be rough.

"Have you heard anything?" Jeremiah asked Erin, and knew from her face that the answer was no even before she spoke.

"It's early yet. They're barely at breakfast even in Virginia."

Kurdy yawned and his eyes closed.

"We should let you get some more sleep," Jeremiah commented, getting off the bed.

"Hey, I'm fine," he protested with heavy eyes, but said nothing more as Erin and Jeremiah wished him a good sleep and left.

"You should go catch some sleep and a shower," Erin suggested as they went down the hall.

He saw the circles under her eyes and raised his brows. "I will if you will."

She smiled wearily. "Deal."

He smiled back, and felt even better when she let him push a hanging lock of her soft, golden hair back behind her ear.

Their eyes met and her smile went away for a long, considering look at him. She didn't tell him to get lost, he noticed. "Have a good rest," she wished him and walked away down the hall.

He turned and went the other way, wondering.


	28. Chapter 28

**March 25**

Daniel was dozing when the outer door opened and woke him. To Daniel's surprise, the guards seemed to be busy in the cell next to them. Suddenly, Kenny Thomason appeared in front of the bars carrying a cot, and behind him another guard held several blankets and a pillow in his arms. It couldn't possibly be their shift, yet there they were none the less.

Daniel didn't move, just watched in amazement as Kenny opened the cell door and brought the cot inside, setting it along the wall, perpendicular to Markus' cot. Markus didn't stir; his feet were stationary upon Daniel's lap.

Finally Daniel couldn't stand not knowing. "Kenny, are you supposed to be doing this?"

Kenny took the blankets and pillow from his buddy and put them on the empty cot. "Nobody said I couldn't," he answered, with a touch of righteous belligerence mixed with guilt. "Here," he held out the pillow, "you can prop his legs up on this."

Daniel scooted out and put the pillow under Markus' knees. "Thank you," he said to Kenny and to his friend. "Thank you both very much."

Kenny shrugged, looking embarrassed. "Should've done it before. Don't tell anybody where it came from."

Daniel smiled a little. "I'll say the prison fairy did it, if anyone asks."

Kenny turned to go.

Daniel, who would've sworn on a pile of holy relics that Markus had slept through the whole thing, was startled when Markus spoke, "Kenny?"

Daniel turned to see Markus looking at Kenny. His face was pale and thin, and his voice was soft. But his eyes were alert and penetrating, as he said, "I heard someone say that all evil needs to flourish is for good men to stand aside and do nothing. You're doing something. And that means that Valhalla Sector will change, as long as people like you continue to do what's right. Power isn't the only force in the universe, no matter what the leaders here believe. They'll soon find out otherwise, anyway." He shut his eyes and took several deliberate breaths to gather strength, and looked again toward the door. "Thank you for all your help and your kindness."

"We… we could do more," the other one offered, his voice shaking. "We have the keys."

"Not just now," Markus refused. "But when the time comes, Richard, then I'll be glad for your help."

"Uh, okay," Kenny said awkwardly. "Hope you can sleep some. Sorry," he apologized as he locked the door again and the guards left, Richard glancing back once, before closing the outer door.

Daniel blinked in shock. "Did I just hear them offer to set us free? And you told them 'no'?"

"And how far do you think we would get?" Markus countered wearily. "But make sure you tell one of our friends when they come back that we have some new allies."

He closed his eyes and soon seemed asleep again.

Daniel watched him for awhile then lay down on his own cot, so their heads were not far apart. He was trying to sort out what he had felt. There had been _**something**_ when Markus had spoken to the guards, an echo of the speech he'd given in St. Louis. It had been a sobering reminder that the man across from him hadn't become the leader of Thunder Mountain only by virtue of his age and intelligence.

Daniel slept fitfully, attuned to his companion, who began to get restless in the early morning hours. He was having bad dreams again, whimpering and muttering incoherently, with his head moving on the cot. Then he opened his eyes and started to try to get up. Daniel rushed to hold him down.

Markus' eyes were open and looking at him, but his words made it clear he was still filled with some nightmare-inspired panic. "I have to get to Meaghan," he said breathlessly. "She needs me."

"She's fine, Markus," Daniel soothed, keeping his hand on Markus' shoulder lightly, to keep him down. "She's safe back home. You don't have to worry."

"No. Life support is down," Markus insisted. "She can't breathe. There's no air. I have to go home and help her."

"It was a dream," Daniel reassured him softly. It wasn't Meaghan who couldn't breathe -- it was Markus himself, forced into constant shallow panting breaths. "Just a bad dream. Erin and Sam are in the mountain, they'll keep anything from happening to Meaghan. She's fine. She wants you to rest." Markus blinked several times and raised his hand to rub his face, coming more alert, as the words reached him and he started to calm down. "Close your eyes," Daniel coaxed. "Just relax. Rest."

"I've done nothing but rest," Markus muttered petulantly, but obeyed.

"Go to sleep," Daniel whispered. "Just sleep, Markus."

Markus relaxed and Daniel thought it was safe to leave him and go back to his cot. But Markus wasn't sleeping, since he murmured after Daniel had settled himself, "Fifteen extra years isn't so bad." He sounded awake now -- too awake for the early hour --" but he also sounded like he wanted to talk.

Daniel rolled over and propped his head on one elbow. "Extra?"

"I was too old," Markus said. Daniel couldn't tell if Markus' eyes were open or not, since his face was turned to the ceiling. But his voice seemed to float from a long distance away. "I should have died at the Big Death. I didn't because when my parents died I locked myself in my room while the disease swept through the base like a fire. I was … lucky, I guess. But I wanted to believe that I was spared for a reason…" His voice trailed away to nothing.

Daniel wasn't sure what to say. Markus beat him to it anyway, letting out a faint, pained little chuckle. "Just ego, really. And desperation to bring order and reason to something unfathomable. I know that now. But still, I feel like that time was a gift. I hope I didn't waste it." He shifted on the cot, trying to find a more comfortable position. He added, more softly, "But I don't know... I wonder now if Jeremiah wasn't right after all. All those years we huddled in the mountain, keeping ourselves safe, letting the rest of the country go to hell. We could've gone out and helped more people, done more, earlier…"

Daniel's heart seemed to constrict at the honest regret -- the guilt -- in his friend's voice. "No, Markus," Daniel said, reaching out an imploring hand that could only reach the top of Markus' head. "Stop. Don't do this to yourself. You did what you could. I know what you feel; I've felt the same that we didn't do enough to help the people we've met as SG-1. But ultimately, you can only do so much. We are, as Jack is always reminding me, only human. We don't see the future. You had enough burdens trying to keep your community safe, getting it ready for the day you _**would**_ take it outside."

He paused but Markus said nothing, so Daniel didn't know what he thought, but he knew Markus was listening. Daniel continued, "Now you have, and even though the meeting didn't work out perfectly, you put a flag in the ground and people have something to rally to. It's only a matter of time and that's a great accomplishment. No matter what happens next," he scooted forward enough to reach out and squeeze Markus' shoulder. "You didn't waste the last fifteen years. You protected Thunder Mountain, preserved it as an example of what the future could be, and you've shown the way to the others. But the work's not done yet. _**You're**_ not done yet. Believe it."

For a moment there was no response then Markus let out a breath, as though releasing some long-held burden. "Thank you, Daniel. I think I can sleep again," he murmured. Soon his regular but shallow breathing of sleep was a soft counterpoint to the sound of the air exchange system.

Daniel listened for awhile and then put his head back down on the cot to try to sleep.

He felt as though he'd barely closed his eyes when he jerked awake at the rattle of keys and creak of the door. But then the sound of a very familiar voice made his eyes shoot open and he sat up, just as Jack came sauntering into view. He was, wonder of wonders, unaccompanied by guards.

Daniel knew at once it was the Jack he knew just by the combination of devil-may-care look on his face and dark concern in his eyes. "Good morning, Daniel," he greeted cheerily. After a moment, he added, "And good morning to you too, Markus."

Daniel turned his head to see that Markus was awake and was watching Jack. Ignoring the regard, Jack went on blithely, "You both look like crap." He wrinkled his nose. "You could use a bath too."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you, too, Jack. I'm fine, thanks for asking. How'd you get in here by yourself?"

Jack shrugged. "If Kawalsky could come talk to you, I saw no reason why I couldn't. And I got tired of hearing about you from other people."

Daniel knew what he wasn't saying and let out a little sigh. "So you lied to the guards that Waverly gave you permission."

"Like they're gonna go bother the grand poobah and ask him for confirmation?" Jack snorted in disgust, then got more serious. He folded his arms and leaned against the bars. "I don't think I can work it twice, though. So here's the situation: we're in a holding pattern. 'We' meaning Kawalsky, Devon, Libby, and the doc. We're trying to think of a way out, but there's a battalion sleeping in the room that has the escape route. They can't stay there forever; sooner or later, Waverly's gonna have to move them out."

"Sooner would be better," Daniel responded.

Jack raised his brows at the Thunder Mountain leader. "You gonna be okay to go?"

"If I have to crawl, I will," Markus said. He flicked the blankets on his chest with a grimace of disgust. "I am so _**sick**_ of this damn place… I want to go home."

"Your wish is my command," Jack answered with a little bow. "Since you have so many friends in here, it's only a matter of time 'til we get out of here."

More friends than even Jack knew, Daniel realized. "There's more. Two guards, Kenny Thomason and Richard, um, something, helped us. They volunteered to free us last night." Jack was appropriately impressed by the tidbit of information. "But that's not the important part. Jack, did Gordon tell you who he is?"

Jack frowned. "I met him, and I know he's been working against them all this time. Kind of a cold guy, but --"

"He's a Tok'ra," Daniel interrupted, when it was clear Jack didn't know.

Jack stared for a second, taken by surprise. "No kidding? A Tok'ra?" Jack repeated. "Isn't that just peachy."

Before Jack could fall into his usual anti-Tok'ra distrust, Daniel added with a pointed glance at Markus, "He's got a healing device. Not in here obviously, but not far away either. All we have to do is get out of this hole."

That worked. Daniel saw Jack's little frown and knew his friend was adding in the new tactical information. After a moment, Jack nodded in satisfaction. "That'd be handy. I have Teal'c and Lee with a chopper on standby, but it's a long way back to the mountain."

"Lee?" Markus asked, turning onto his side to look at Jack and catching his breath at the movement. "Lee's here?"

Daniel pointed at him with a glare, "Hey, lay back. You know what Gordon said about moving around."

"Uh oh," Jack observed, teasing, "Daniel's in full mother hen mode. You want me to smack him for you? That's the only way to get him to stop."

Markus ignored them both and repeated, "Lee's here?" Daniel wasn't sure if Markus was glad or worried by the news. Maybe both. He knew Markus was still smarting over Lee's betrayal.

Jack figured out that Markus was not to be distracted from his question, and answered, "Outside, waiting. He's feeling guilty. He was very eager to ride to your rescue and make up for his earlier stupidity."

Markus started to speak but the words got caught on a sudden coughing spasm. His eyes tightly closed, he curled up under his blanket, and braced his chest with one hand until the fit passed. For what felt like a long time, he lay there unmoving, except for his labored breathing.

After it seemed over, Jack asked, "Markus? You okay?"

Markus answered hoarsely, without opening his eyes, "Not the word I'd pick…"

"You hang in there," Jack ordered. He exchanged a worried look with Daniel. "Any other stunning revelations you need to tell me? Otherwise I'm going to go talk to our snakehead friend."

Daniel was alarmed. If Jack talked to Gordon with that sort of attitude… "Jack --"

Jack raised his hands as if to ward off a blow. "Just kidding. Jeez."

"Yeah, well, he's not going to think it's funny, and we need his help." Daniel was almost sorry he'd told Jack. He knew Jack would try to behave himself, but even when he was trying, he couldn't help annoying the Tok'ra he actually liked and was downright rude to the rest.

"I'll be good, I promise," Jack said. "Anything else?"

Daniel shook his head. "No, just … don't wait too long."

Jack agreed and after a last frowning glance at Markus, left. Daniel squatted down beside Markus' cot. "See?" he asked softly. "Jack's here and he's free. And I can tell you from personal experience, he's really good at this sort of thing. And Gordon will work his Tok'ra magic and you'll be walking the halls of Thunder Mountain again before you know it."

Markus opened his eyes and, to Daniel's amazement, smiled. It was faint but genuine, as he said wistfully, "Shower. I don't care if the water's wasted; I'm going to spend half an hour in there. Then burn these clothes."

Daniel chuckled, knowing exactly how he felt. "I'll be standing right next to you."

"I know you will," Markus answered, more seriously, and reached out with his good hand to touch Daniel's arm. "You've been standing there all along. I -- I don't think I would've made it this long without you," he admitted.

"Glad to help," Daniel replied, then added more briskly. "Now, let's get some more rest while we can. It's still early and we might have a very busy day today."

\---+---

Jack left the brig in a somber mood. He was a bit ashamed to realize he had believed that Markus' condition had been exaggerated. After all, he had looked a little worn and pale under his dark stubble, but he'd been alert and seemed to talk fine. There hadn't been any visible injury, unlike Devon's very obvious broken collarbone, arm and bruised face. But then Markus had turned, and his jacket sleeve had gotten pushed back, revealing purplish welts on his wrist. Those marks had been caused by pulling against metal restraints.

The sight made Jack realize that the injuries might be hidden, but they were nonetheless there. The pain visibly shooting through him at each cough was unnecessary confirmation.

Broken ribs, internal bleeding -- Jack remembered with a shiver that he'd been there too, and it hadn't been fun. Fraiser had told him that without the freezing temperature he'd have been dead before Daniel had figured out there was a Stargate at the bottom of the world. His recovery had taken weeks.

At least Markus wouldn't take so long, if Gordon-the-Tok'ra -- and wasn't that a kick in the head? -- could use the healing device. Assuming he really did have one, which was one of the things Jack intended to confirm.

The back section of level three had the laboratories, rather like the quarantine rooms which were also bunched together in the middle levels of Cheyenne so they could be isolated in an emergency. There were warning lights here, thankfully dark, including the one next to door of room 317, Fukizaki's office and laboratory.

There was a narrow panel of glass in the door, and Jack peeked in. The lights were on, but he couldn't see anyone. The door was unlocked and he slipped inside.

Except for the commissary, it was the largest room in Valhalla Sector he'd seen. The center island had two sinks, counter space, and suspended central shelves holding clean glassware. One wall was lined with various large pieces of equipment, most of which Jack didn't recognize. It all looked old and clunky though, compared to the same sort of labs in his Cheyenne. The opposite wall had some more work space, book shelves, a large padlocked cabinet holding bottles of chemicals, and a desk with a mid-80's era computer terminal sitting on it and two neat stacks of what looked like reports. He had the amusing thought that the primitive technology must drive the Tok'ra nuts.

At the end of the room was a large glass window and a door. The door led into a decontamination chamber and then into the main room behind the glass. It was curiously mundane, with a similar set up with a workbench and various equipment. The small white refrigerator looked innocuous enough, but the large ultra-low freezer, emblazoned with a biohazard warning sign and decontamination procedures, gave him the shivers. Frozen inside was probably the actual virus that had decimated the Earth's population.

Fukizaki was there, after all, wearing a white lab coat and dropping some liquid into a beaker at the far end of the main workbench. He glanced up, and did not seem surprised to see O'Neill there. "Good. You're here. We need to talk," he said abruptly before returning to his work.

Jack wandered farther in, careful not to touch anything. Usually he would fiddle with things in Carter's or Daniel's offices, but not in this lab. "Morning. Place clear?" he asked looking around for cameras and such.

"There are no listening devices," Fukizaki answered. The answer was so perfectly alien Jack wondered why he hadn't noticed before.

"Good. So. You're a Tok'ra." A little blunt maybe, but he was curious how Fukizaki would react. The result was extremely disappointing.

The doctor finished putting a few more drops into the small beaker, before turning up the heat on the stir plate. His eyes lifted to meet Jack's but his expression didn't shift at all. "Yes," he answered, "and you came with Daniel through the chappa'ai in Thunder Mountain."

Jack felt his own jaw loosen in surprise. How did he know that? "Daniel told you," he assumed.

The Tok'ra doctor smiled condescendingly. "No, he did not. But you're not the O'Neill I saw here two weeks ago. You seem older, so I presume you're from the future."

Older? Jack straightened in offense. "We are _**exactly**_ the same age, I'll have you know. We're not from the future, we're from an alternate reality," he declared, a little smugly, glad to have caught the Tok'ra in a mistake.

Fukizaki did not look surprised by that answer either, he just frowned. "The chappa'ai should not be able to switch realities."

"Nope," Jack agreed. He leaned against the worktable and started to reach for a glass stirring rod to fiddle with, but when Gordon stepped forward as if to stop him, Jack drew back his hand and took hold of the nearest empty stool instead. "There was something else that did that, some huge honkin' device built by the Ancients. You know them, right? Gate builder folk, who decided to become big glowing jellyfish and left all their crap lying around the galaxy for lowly humans to trip over?"

Fukizaki actually chuckled, which gave Jack some hope that this Tok'ra wasn't one of the annoying, humorless ones. He answered dryly, "Yes, we know of them. They left crap for Tok'ra to trip over as well."

Just hearing a Tok'ra say 'crap' was funny. Jack had to smile back. "Really? Maybe you guys have been to the place that caught us and you know how it works. That'd be real useful. Although I guess getting the gate to dial out is going to have to come first."

"Leaving this place comes first," Fukizaki reminded him. "For that, I have an idea."

Jack perked up. "Oh? Do tell."

"I have just learned that Thunder Mountain has launched their rescue of the other St. Louis prisoners. When General Waverly learns of this, he likely will mount a counter assault. This might afford us the opportunity to leave."

"So they're doing it?" Jack asked and nodded, thinking it through. "If he pulls enough troops from here, it'll work." He paused, considering Markus' injuries. "Daniel said you have access to a healing device outside?"

"Yes. There's one in a tunnel about eight kilometers from here, and I should be able to stabilize Markus enough to journey to Thunder Mountain. However we still need to get him there. This," he indicated the milky white fluid inside the beaker, "will be a substance to boost his blood pressure for the escape. The effect will be temporary, but it should give him strength and alertness enough to reach the surface. But I must finish it."

"All right, all right, I can take a hint," Jack backed away, smiling inwardly. It was good to know some things in this universe weren't different: Tok'ra were focused on the mission at hand to the exclusion of pleasantries. He waved a hand in farewell as he left, but Gordon had already turned back to his chemicals.

Jack decided he'd cruise past the armory and check out security. They were going to need weapons in the escape, and it'd be up to him and Charlie to get them.

\---+---

Colonel Frank Simmons eyed the manila folder on his desk and tapped his fingers thoughtfully. It was Markus Alexander's original recruitment file. Simmons had taken possession of all NID files of people of potential interest. It was really a pity that the Big Death had happened before NID had gotten their hands on him. All that raw intelligence could have been molded so differently, if he'd had some kind of guidance.

Simmons shook off the wistful thoughts to deal with the present. If there was one thing he knew, it was that secrets were power. The more secrets a person held, the more power was there for the taking. Markus had secrets: the Big Death, the rebellion, Thunder Mountain... possibly more.

If people would just stop getting in his way, he'd have them. He'd seen the look in Markus' eyes yesterday. Oh, the younger man was full of bravado, but no one was unbreakable. Then Simmons would have those secrets, and Valhalla Sector would be invincible.

Emerson had stopped him yesterday, but the president had probably gone back to drinking his whiskey and soda and admiring the presidential carpet in his office, and forgotten all about Markus by now. So it was time to get on with it.

Mind made up, he called in Lieutenant Grogan. "Take some of your men, remove Alexander from his cell and take him to room one."

Grogan saluted, a gleam of eagerness in his eyes. "Yes, sir." He turned smartly and left. Now there was a young man who had the proper appreciation of what needed to be done, Simmons thought almost fondly as he watched Grogan go.

But then, he couldn't blame Grogan for his interest. Room one was John's interrogation room. But John wouldn't be necessary today, when Simmons had a button to push to electrify the floor. He liked to call it the Dance, when his subjects tried to keep their bare feet up. It could be rather comical, but it got results, especially when he kept it at a low level for an extended period. Exhaustion was always a boon to an interrogator.

He patted the file again with anticipation humming through his body. Markus wouldn't crack right away, but it would be interesting to see how long it would take. Simmons would first have to strip away those layers of stubborn pride and nauseating nobility to find the frightened, sheltered prodigy inside. There was a lot of fear in Markus, he could sense it, even though it was buried deep: fear of loss, of being alone, of being out of control. All Simmons had to do was dig for that fear, and those secrets would come tumbling out like a waterfall.

Fifteen minutes later, Grogan unexpectedly returned, fuming. "Sir, the sergeant at the brig called in Captain Makepeace, who refused to allow me entrance. He said that he was under direct presidential orders that the traitor not be moved."

"He did, did he?" Simmons felt a flare of anger, which he pushed aside. It was not time for temper, but for cold consideration. "So, Emerson's making a stand," he murmured.

Foolish man. Putting himself against Simmons and the complete victory of Valhalla Sector out of some infantile wish to be _**nice**_. What he and Gordon refused to understand was that being nice was just another word for being weak. Valhalla Sector couldn't afford to be weak, not in a world where only the strong survived.

"Sir, why is the president protecting Alexander, when he's our enemy?" Grogan burst out.

"Because, lieutenant," Simmons told him, "Markus Alexander is a very persuasive and dangerous man, and has apparently convinced our president that the military's control on things is …" he hesitated. 'Wrong' was such an emotionally-laden term, and might get the lieutenant thinking in directions he shouldn't be. "Too strong," he finished smoothly. "Markus wants us divided and weak, so his forces can destroy Valhalla Sector. But it seems not everyone understands his true intentions. That's why we have to be strong, lieutenant, and do what we must."

Grogan nodded sharply. "Yes, sir, I understand. It's like Jenny. She actually asked me last night if I thought that it was 'right' to hurt him. I told her, not only was it right, but more importantly it was necessary, since he wouldn't tell us willingly, we had to force it from him."

"That's right, lieutenant." Simmons looked at Grogan, but wasn't seeing him. This matched with reports of some other comments about Markus' sentence and disapproval by those who had seen him escorted back to his cell yesterday. If Grogan's little mousy wife had actually voiced a criticism, dissent was spreading. No wonder Emerson was feeling bold.

"Persuasive and dangerous, indeed," he murmured to himself, tapping his fingers as his mind clicked through his options. The nascent rebellion would have to be suppressed, and the best way to do that would be to execute Markus. Fear would silence the vocal critics, and the lightning rod of Markus' presence would be gone.

But he didn't want to do that, until he was sure that he couldn't break Markus and find out his secrets. So first things first, he had to get Emerson back on his leash or get rid of him. He was sure that Waverly would see it, too. It was time for a president who would be grateful for the title and its perks, not seek out more power than he was given.

Simmons pushed back his chair and stood. "Lieutenant, while I visit General Waverly, I have a few tasks for you."

It never hurt to be prepared for both success and failure.

\---+---

In the communications center, the two sergeants on duty were kicking back in their chairs, while the older of the two was trying to explain arcane rules of football to his younger coworker.

A loud crackle and a frantic voice interrupted the discussion of two-point conversions. "… _do you read? Valhalla Control, Millhaven, do you copy?"_

Master Sergeant Willis, sitting nearest the microphone, leaned forward and opened the signal. "Valhalla Control, Millhaven, over."

A loud noise and static broke up the transmission before it came through again with sudden clarity, " -- _under attack! We are under attack! … ters, guns, a whole fucking army! ... many, need support, Valhalla! Repeat, we need air support! Do you copy?"_

"Valhalla copies, Millhaven," Willis replied and looked at the younger man, Devries. "Call General Waverly. Tell him Millhaven is under attack."

Devries swallowed nervously but moved toward the phone anyway. "Understood."

Willis tried to get more information from the radio voice, but was unable to raise them again by the time Waverly and Colonel West entered.

He reported succinctly, hoping the fury in Waverly's eyes would not turn on him.

West demanded, "You haven't been able to raise anyone in Millhaven? At all?"

"No, sir."

West looked to Waverly. "Could be a trap, sir."

Waverly's eyes narrowed. "No. Thunder Mountain is going after the prisoners, just as I hoped. Colonel, Operation Valkyrie is a go. I want your birds in the air in twenty." A dark gleam of anticipation lit his features. "This is our chance to crush them, colonel. Go."

West acknowledged and left quickly.

Waverly ordered, "Sergeant, keep monitoring all our frequencies. If you get anything from Millhaven or our troops out west, notify me in the situation room at once."

Only after Waverly had gone did Devries finally manage to draw in a full breath. He pulled in his chair to start manually scanning frequencies. But he couldn't help asking, "What's Operation Valkyrie?"

"Dunno," Willis answered. "And I don't really wanna know. But I bet it has something to do with coming down on the rebels like the wrath of God. After all, we've got the equipment and the training -- we just had to wait for them to come out of their hole."

"I heard there's a surprise in Millhaven," Devries offered. "One of Colonel's Simmons' men mentioned it."

The two smiled, and turned their attention to their duty.

\---+---

Jack sat across from Charlie in the commissary, drinking his reconstituted orange drink with reluctance. While it might keep the residents of Mount Pegasus from dying of scurvy, it tasted like the plastic bags the bright orange powder had been kept in for the last fifteen years. He glanced at Charlie's breakfast tray, glad he'd opted for pseudo-orange juice and pseudo-coffee with actual bread, instead of the pseudo-scrambled eggs-n-ham on Kawalsky's plate. He shuddered, only partly in jest. "Doesn't this place have _**any**_ real food?"

"It's spring," Kawalsky answered with a shrug. "We've got people who supply us -- "

"At gunpoint, I'd bet," Jack muttered.

Kawalsky nodded his agreement, and went on with what he was saying, "But, y'know, it's too early for produce. And unlike other places I could mention, nobody ever started any indoor gardens around here."

Jack snorted. "How many people would come over to us for fresh tomatoes, you think?" he asked under his breath, only half kidding. The old saying went that an army marched on its stomach -- given the quality of the food here, this army wasn't going to do much.

Kawalsky chuckled. "Me, for one." He stirred around his 'food' and shoveled some of it in his mouth, swallowing quickly to avoid tasting it. He muttered, "Shouldn't the alarm be ringing by now?"

Jack shrugged as his gaze idly passed over the others in the large room, wondering who else in this place was so discontented they might also come over to their side. There was an older guy in the officer's line who looked oddly familiar. But it took several seconds of intense staring for Jack to figure it out. The face was thinner, with more gray in the receding buzz cut than Jack remembered, but it was him all right. "Well, well," he murmured, "Robert Makepeace. Somehow I'm not surprised he's around. Roaches tend to survive just about anything, don't they?" he asked, more rhetorically than anything, expecting agreement.

But Kawalsky was startled. "Rob's not that bad, Jack."

Jack watched as Makepeace collected his food. He looked around with studied casualness, checking if someone was watching him. Jack had to shift his gaze in a hurry, to make sure Makepeace didn't realize he was under scrutiny. "Oh really?" he asked. "You telling me that he's _**not**_ Simmons' stooge here?"

Kawalsky shook his head. "Not even close. He got busted to lieutenant, from full bird and CO of all our Marines no less, almost three years ago. Waverly promoted him back to captain again last fall, but only after he did time in stockade."

That got Jack's attention. "What the hell did he do?"

"Officially? Disobeyed orders. But scuttlebutt has it he sorta snapped -- not only did he refuse to order a bunch of civilians fired on, but threatened to shoot anyone who did. The only reason he didn't get killed, I think, was Waverly figured the Marine contingent might rebel and leave."

"Huh," Jack took another look at Makepeace, just as the officer brushed shoulders with a Marine lieutenant going toward the buffet line. Jack was hard pressed to keep his mouth shut when he saw what happened. Makepeace had just put a piece of paper into the younger man's jacket pocket. There was a grim expression on Makepeace's face as he left the commissary with his breakfast tray. The lieutenant collected his food and didn't put his hand into his pocket until he was sitting with his fellow Marines at the end of the officers' table where they gathered. With the skill of a blackjack cheater, he opened the note on his tray, read it, and slid it to his buddy next to him.

After Jack watched the whole thing, he leaned forward toward Kawalsky. "Tell me, Charlie. Is there anyone in this damn place who _**isn't**_ part of some secret conspiracy?"

Charlie had seen it too and shook his head with a rueful chuckle. "I had no idea. But it makes sense -- they were always kind of their own unit. Maybe we should go talk to Rob?" he suggested.

Jack opened his mouth to agree, if they could do it carefully. If Makepeace really had grown a conscience and he was really still in charge of the Marines, busted in rank or not, that was a group of people he'd like on his side. All inter-service rivalry and joking aside, there weren't too many people he'd prefer in a close firefight.

But he never had the chance to speak the words.

A loud warning klaxon sounded suddenly and a series of lights began to flash. Just about everyone in the commissary jumped to his feet, including Jack, whose heart was suddenly pounding with anticipation.

The klaxon cut out, and a familiar male voice came over the speakers, "This is Colonel West. General Waverly has ordered Operation Valkyrie. The Second and the Eighth will muster in barracks immediately. The Air Cav group report immediately to the hangars. Departure in fifteen. All other personnel must vacate the halls until the all clear."

About half the people in the commissary rushed out, leaving their inedible breakfasts behind, while the others lingered, starting to talk among themselves excitedly. Kawalsky sat down again, and Jack followed his lead.

Softly he asked, "Operation Valkyrie?"

Kawalsky shook his head, looking worried. "Never heard of it." He took a deep breath and sipped his 'coffee'.

"We'll go find our friends once we can move around." Jack was tempted to go now and use the confusion of the pullout to run the escape, but fifteen minutes wasn't enough time. If someone saw him and Kawalsky running around when they shouldn't be, they might get arrested just for being in the way.

So once again, he was forced to wait. But at least he knew that things were moving. His tapping foot was the only concession to the adrenaline pumping through him.

\---+---

Malek heard the same announcement in his lab. It was going to be time to break out soon.

'_Operation Valkyrie?' _Chuan repeated in puzzlement. '_Do you remember hearing about it?'_

Malek loaded his stimulant mixture into a syringe and capped it, slipping it into the inner pocket of his lab coat. '_No. But as long as it gets half the men out of here, it can only work in our favor.'_

He removed a bottle marked as drain cleaner from the bottom of the locked chemical cabinet, poured a small amount into a beaker and then sucked it into another syringe. It had been dyed a bright blue to indicate danger, and it looked disconcertingly pretty in the clear syringe. But it wasn't drain cleaner, but instead a powerful narcotic, strong enough for a few milliliters to put anyone unconscious. The whole syringe was a lethal dose. If pressed, it would not be the first time, though he preferred not to kill anyone.

Chuan's emotions were grimly determined, matching his own. They had no overt weapons, but this laboratory was stocked with weapons of another sort.

He glanced at the quarantine room and smiled a bit. He had destroyed all the samples of the Big Death virus last night and replaced them with the common cold virus. His computer worm was already working to overwrite the virus files in the mainframe with gibberish. The research notebooks were full of false trails and sabotaged experiments, which if followed would prevent anyone from discovering the true nature of the disease.

There was nothing left here for them. They'd cast their lot with Markus and Thunder Mountain. There was no going back.

'_I don't want to,'_ Chuan said. '_Let's go find Devon.'_

There was one more thing in his pockets: the three Tok'ra tunnel crystals. While he was very reluctant to use them and display alien technology in front of people who should not even know aliens existed, he also knew that it might end up necessary. So he'd been carrying them around like a talisman for the last day, not wanting to be caught away from his room without them.

By that time, the all-clear had sounded and they left the lab without a glance back.

\---+---

He kept hitting the snooze button on the toaster but the shrill alarm wouldn't stop. But then the hazy question came to his mind, "Why is there a snooze button on the _**toaster**_?" And he realized he was dreaming, and realizing that, he woke up.

Markus opened his eyes, in time to hear West's announcement blaring from the speaker in the corridor beyond the bars.

"What do you think it means?" Daniel asked, from his cot.

"My guess is Erin just went to rescue our people." He tried not to let hope flare too much inside, but this announcement was the best news he'd heard in awhile.

"Then we'll be out of here soon."

"That'd be nice." Getting out -- Markus looked forward to that. However he was not looking forward to the trip. Not just because moving hurt, but he also hated the idea that he was going to be burdening someone else, probably Daniel, with his own weakness. Logically, he knew Daniel wouldn't mind, but he was sick of depending on somebody else.

But if he had to, he would. God, he wanted to go home. Ever since he'd heard that Jack and Charlie had arrived, the feeling had been growing in him that he didn't want to die in this hellhole. He wanted to see his friends. He wanted to see Meaghan again.

Yet those weren't the only reasons, if he was honest with himself. This place was about to collapse under the weight of its own corruption, and he wanted Simmons and Waverly to _**know**_ that he would still be there to pick up the pieces after they were gone.

That required both escaping and living -- neither of which he was sure were possible, but at least the odds were moving in his favor.

Markus closed his eyes again to rest while he waited for his friends to come open the door.


	29. Chapter 29

Jack knocked once on Devon's door and then slipped inside, with Kawalsky at his heels. Devon was there, sitting back against his headboard. Libby spared a glance and went back to glaring at him with her arms folded. There'd clearly been an argument.

Jack raised his brows. "What?"

"He's refusing to go," Libby announced. Her voice dripped sarcasm as she added, "He's _**so**_ brave."

"Waverly's never going to let Thunder Mountain alone, if I come with you," Devon said, in a tight, highly patient voice. "He'll never stop, you know that." He looked at Jack and Kawalsky. "You both know it too. He won't take the chance of anyone else possessing the virus."

"We've been over this," she snapped. "If Gordon comes -- and he will -- it won't make any difference. And better you get the hell out of here, so those bastards don't force you harder to make sure they get it before he gives it to them."

"They won't necessarily know that Gordon has the virus --" Devon started, obviously repeating himself.

Jack interrupted, unwilling to waste any more time with this crap. "Look, we have our chance, and I'm sorry, but you _**are**_ going. Not the least because I promised your son that I'd get you out of here." Devon opened his mouth to object, but Jack rode right over him, holding up one finger in warning. "No, this isn't up for debate, and no, you don't have any choice. There are other things going on which, quite frankly, are going to make your Big Death virus thing pretty irrelevant anyway." He inwardly winced, knowing he was being cryptic again. Damn Tok'ra --- just being around them was making him talk like one.

Speak of the devil… The door opened and Gordon walked in. His gaze slipped from one to another, taking stock of the situation, and his lips quirked in amusement when he looked at Devon's sulky expression. "You have courage, my friend, but this is not necessary. The virus research here is shortly to evaporate, and once I am free, I will help Thunder Mountain destroy all the outside labs. Waverly will have no capacity to create either vaccine or cure when I am finished."

It was a quiet declaration, but Jack knew he meant every word of it. It reminded him of Lantash in young Lieutenant Elliot and his resolve to unleash the poison on Revanna. He had succeeded in his mission, even while dying of his injuries. Now this Tok'ra -- whose name Jack still hadn't thought to ask -- had that same look of total commitment to his mission, whatever the cost.

"All right," Devon gave in with a sigh. "I know when I'm outnumbered."

Libby smiled brilliantly at him. "Finally! Come on, I'll help you sit up." As she gave him a hand, she glanced at Gordon. "So what's the plan?"

Jack answered before Gordon had the chance. "Kawalsky and I are gonna go raid the armory for weapons." He glanced at Gordon. "You have a zat gun on you?"

Gordon frowned blankly, and Jack rolled his eyes with a sigh, repeating with slow deliberation, "A zat'nik'tel. Do you have one?" He ignored the puzzled looks of everyone else, focusing on the Tok'ra. Jack knew perfectly well that Gordon was trying to keep his alien status a secret from the others, but he was willing to play along only as long as it didn't get in the way.

"No," Gordon answered after a moment's hesitation. "I keep none of that technology here."

"Damn, they're sure handy, but we'll make do." Jack went on before the others could get side-tracked by the strange technology. Libby was next. "We need Thomason and his friend Richard. They actually volunteered to open the doors for Daniel and Markus last night, so they're going to help us get in the brig. I need you to go find them."

"But -- " she glanced at Devon, lower lip between her teeth.

"I will watch over him," Gordon promised.

"All right," she agreed reluctantly. "You want me to bring them back here?"

"No, to that small rec room down the hall from the brig. We'll meet there. And then -- "

A knock on the door made them all freeze. Kawalsky moved to the wall beside the door, and Jack saw Gordon put a hand in the pocket of his lab coat. He had some kind of weapon in there, Jack was sure, so he moved a little left to get out of the line of fire. Devon called, "Who is it?"

The answer was surprising, soft and urgent. "Jennifer Hailey. Grogan," the last was tacked on belatedly.

Gordon moved to the door and opened it, ushering her in quickly. As soon as the door closed, he asked in concern, "What has happened?"

Jennifer took a moment to find her bearings, surprised by all the people in the room. But Jack smiled at her encouragingly and she found her voice, shifting her gaze to look up at Gordon. "I want to go with you."

Gordon paused and frowned slightly. "What did Grogan do?" he asked in concern.

"Nothing. Really, not this time," she added, when he looked doubtful. "He was in a good mood just now. He said something about a special assignment from the colonel."

The Tok'ra's frown deepened and he exchanged a glance with Devon. "What else did he say?"

"That's it. But he seemed _**excited**_ by it," her mouth twisted in disgust. "And I know that means he's going to do something… wrong. And when he comes back…" she trailed off, swallowed hard, and then added anxiously, "I want to get out of here. I'll help you, whatever you need. But please take me with you."

Libby cast a surprisingly cold look at her. "So you can betray us all to Simmons?"

"No! I wouldn't!" Jennifer insisted. "Why would I? I hate him, I hate them both." Her fists pressed very hard into her pants. "They do whatever they want, hurt whoever they want -- and I'm sick of it!" The words burst from her so forcefully even she was surprised. Then she added more calmly, "You told me to be ready to help," she said to Gordon. "And I am. I want to help."

"It's going to be dangerous," Gordon told her, but not as if he was really denying her. "If we're stopped in our escape, we may have to use weapons. And your husband may be there."

"After everything he's done to me, you think I care?" she snapped. "I hope one of you shoots him."

"All right, all right," Jack gave in to the inevitable. They didn't have time to sit there and argue about it. "You'll go with them," he drew a little circle in the air around Gordon and Devon, "and wait for the rest of us. You wait no more than fifteen minutes. If Kawalsky and I haven't come by then, we probably won't. So get Markus and Daniel out yourselves. Devon knows the way."

His gaze met Gordon's and then he dropped it deliberately to whatever was in the pocket of Gordon's lab coat. The Tok'ra nodded once, agreeing to the plan.

"We good?" Jack asked everyone, his gaze moving from person to person. "Ready?"

It was a motley group, he realized, and nothing like the crisp efficiency he was used to dealing with at the SGC. Except for Charlie, none of them were even military. The Tok'ra was the only other one he trusted to carry a weapon safely. It gave him a twinge of amusement to realize he was looking forward to having Daniel watching his six. Boy, had things changed in the last seven years.

"All right, people, let's do this."

\---+---

Jack and Kawalsky walked up to the armory as if they had every right to be there. They passed the two external guards, who just snapped to attention, and right up to the counter where the master sergeant stood ready for them. "Major O'Neill, Major Kawalsky. What can I do for you?"

Kawalsky smiled wryly. "Going on patrol, Sarge. Seems we're a little short handed. So, load us up."

The sergeant frowned, and checked his clipboard. He said hesitantly, "I don't have any paperwork, sir…"

"I know," Kawalsky gave a sigh. "It was all so last minute, with the general taking off and all. He probably didn't think of papers. But we're supposed to go out."

Jack spoke up, nudging Kawalsky, "We could just stay and say we did. Who's gonna know?"

"Jack!" Kawalsky remonstrated sharply, but amusement in his eyes. "Orders. C'mon, Sarge, I'm not going out there unarmed."

"Yes, sir. But you'll make sure that General Waverly's office sends over the paperwork?" the sergeant asked, and O'Neill pitied the guy. So concerned about keeping his little fief in order, when he was being conned.

"Of course, we will," Kawalsky assured him.

The sergeant turned away to go back into the fenced-off area to take weapons off their racks and returned to set them on the counter. Jack exchanged a glance with Kawalsky, as they watched the pile grow. So far, so good.

Two MP-5's. Two Beretta 9 mm sidearms. Two full clips for each gun. Four grenades. Holsters. Vest. And best of all, a radio. It wouldn't send a signal outside the bunker, but once they'd made it out, they had their link to Teal'c.

Then they signed the weapons out, Jack scrawling his name illegibly, and bid the helpful sergeant goodbye.

In the hall, Kawalsky glanced at him. "I was going to try for more ammo, but figured if this wasn't enough, we were gonna be in deep shit anyway."

Jack shrugged. "I'll give my nine-mil to Daniel, you give yours to Gordon. We'll be covered enough."

Kawalsky opened his mouth, probably to ask what a doctor knew about weapons, but in the end, just shook his head. "I'm gonna get the full story on him, y'know. But later."

"Later," Jack agreed. Hell, _**he**_ didn't have the full story. Time enough when they were on the chopper out of here.

He and Charlie stood in front of the elevator, waiting for it to come so they could go downstairs to the brig on four. The doors slid open, and he saw that the elevator was already occupied. The two men were nobody he recognized, but he could tell by the way Charlie tensed that this was a problem.

"Major Kawalsky, Major O'Neill," said the taller of the two. He didn't even make a token effort to come to attention, despite his uniform clearly marked as a sergeant.

"Ramirez, Corrigan," Kawalsky acknowledged brusquely and stepped in the elevator. Jack followed him, and noticing that Kawalsky put his back to the side of the elevator, he did the same on the opposite side.

"Going down?" Ramirez asked, eyebrows raised askance. His attitude of amused superiority was grating on O'Neill. "Armed like that?"

Jack thought that was a curious question, considering both of them were armed as well, with pistols in thigh holsters.

"We're going on patrol," Kawalsky said tightly. Jack couldn't figure out why Kawalsky was answering at all. He should just tell the sergeant to mind his own business.

"Oh, really?" Ramirez questioned. "Funny, I didn't hear that you were added to the list."

"And I suppose you know everything, _**sergeant**_?" Jack snapped in his best "I'm a colonel and you're not" voice.

Ramirez wasn't impressed. He exchanged a look with Corrigan and very ostentatiously put a hand on his weapon. "I think, _**sir**_," he said sarcastically, "we should go confirm those orders with Colonel Simmons."

"Sure," Kawalsky said, shrugging. Ramirez relaxed slightly, but Kawalsky extended the motion of his shrug, bringing his MP-5 up and slamming it into Ramirez' face. He let out a yell, fumbling to draw his weapon. He and Kawalsky scuffled.

Jack grabbed his sidearm, letting his MP-5 dangle by the strap, and had his pointed before Corrigan finished drawing his weapon. Jack shook his head, chiding him. "No, kid, don't try it. Your finger won't even make it to the trigger, before I blow your brains all over this lovely puke colored wall."

Kawalsky had Ramirez pinned, with his rifle across the sergeant's throat, which didn't stop Ramirez from talking. "Traitors," he gasped. "The colonel was right. Give you enough rope and you'd hang yourself."

Kawalsky leaned forward, cutting Ramirez off. "Jack. What do you want to do?"

"We should shoot them both," Jack said, not sure if he was serious or not. Very clearly they couldn't go free.

"You wouldn't dare," Corrigan challenged. "The whole base would hear the shot."

He had a point. Silencers were not part of the standard gear. Worse, the elevator was slowing and was shortly going to stop on the fourth floor.

"Then we're going to walk out of here," O'Neill decided. "All of us. Very friendly-like. But we'll have the guns." He plucked the two extra pistols away and put one in his pants pocket and the other in his holster. "We just want you two out of the way. So if you cooperate, nobody gets hurt. Agreed?"

The kid looked to Ramirez, who glared hatefully at Jack, but finally nodded. Jack knew the weasel was going to try something the instant he had an opportunity, so he kept Ramirez in front of him, while Kawalsky covered Corrigan.

The doors opened. Luckily no one was there waiting for the elevator. Jack stood very close behind and a little to the side, so they'd look like they were walking together. Hopefully nobody would notice that he had a gun pointed at Ramirez from inside his jacket pocket.

There were a handful of people in the hall, some military and some civilians, but no one seemed to pay attention. In fact, Jack saw several of the military men avoid looking at Ramirez, pretending to adjust their uniforms, and Ramirez made an irritated growl in his throat. Jack smiled inwardly. Ramirez was so popular no one wanted to look him in the eye.

They reached the rec room. "Open it," Jack ordered, poking Ramirez in the back with the gun for emphasis.

He did. Jack braced himself for the room to be occupied, which it was -- with Gordon, Devon, and Jennifer. She saw who they had and blanched, her eyes widening. "What are _**they**_ doing here?" she demanded.

"Ran into them in the elevator," Jack explained, nudging Ramirez forward. "Gotta tie them up or something."

Gordon moved forward, hand in his pocket. "I have a better solution."

"You're all traitors," Ramirez spat, but nonetheless took a step back from Gordon, as the Tok'ra glided up to him with little expression, but menace glowing darkly from his eyes.

Removing a syringe from his pocket, Gordon deliberately squirted some of the crystal blue water upward to clear any bubbles. "I have watched you do Simmons' bidding, Ramirez. You enjoy watching people suffer. Surely you can't be afraid of a small taste of what you have done to others?"

"No, wait," Devon called. "Gordon, he needs to tell us about Grogan's assignment."

Ramirez smirked, "Wouldn't you like to know?" But the smirk faltered when Gordon struck like a viper, plunging in the needle to Ramirez's thigh, right through his pants.

"I would," Gordon answered. "But we don't have time." He pulled the syringe out, and the sergeant's eyes rolled back in his head, his legs turned to rubber, and he collapsed to the floor. Jack didn't try to catch him.

Corrigan was staring at the fallen form and then Gordon with wide-eyes. "You killed him! You _**killed**_ him!"

Coolly Gordon replied, "If you wish to avoid his fate, you would be wise to tell us what you know about Simmons' plans. And Operation Valkyrie," he added as an afterthought.

Very earnestly, Corrigan exclaimed, "I don't know, I swear. All I know is our squad was gathering down here for some task from the colonel."

"And Valkyrie?" Jack prompted.

"Thunder Mountain, that's all I know. I swear." The young man's blue eyes were beseeching. Gordon frowned and met Jack's gaze as if to check whether he bought it.

Corrigan attacked, his elbow jerking backward into Kawalsky, who was standing close behind him, and he grabbed for the handgun.

Jack swore, and brought his gun up, but he had no target, not while Kawalsky was struggling with him. Corrigan was trying to get at the gun. Probably to fire it, Jack realized, and attract attention.

But Gordon was closer. He waded in fearlessly, grabbed the sergeant by the shoulders and yanked him off Kawalsky. The sergeant had the gun in his hand, but it did him no good, as the Tok'ra squeezed his shoulder, fingers digging deep. The sergeant let out an agonized yelp, his hand spasmed open and the gun dropped to the floor. Gordon administered another dose of the blue stuff and Corrigan was soon sleeping on the floor, next to Ramirez.

Devon, Jennifer, and Kawalsky were staring at Gordon like they'd never seen him before. He rose to his feet, put away the syringe, and raised his eyebrows when he noticed their regard. "Martial arts," he explained, as if it were obvious.

Jack snorted. Right. Nothing to do with being a snakehead at all. But Jack left it alone and asked instead, "How long's the sleepy juice going to last?"

Gordon shrugged. "Maybe half an hour. I gave them small doses."

"We need to tie and gag them," Kawalsky suggested, pulling out one of the laces from his vest to tie Ramirez' arms behind his back. Jack followed his lead, and looked around for what to use for a gag.

"They're going to be missed," Jennifer pointed out reluctantly. "If Corrigan was telling the truth about them mustering down here…" she trailed off and glanced nervously at the door.

"Here," Jack handed a gun to Gordon, who checked the safety and tucked it into the waistband of his pants, and then Jack offered his other extra to Devon. "You want?"

Devon shook his head. "Right handed," he explained with a meaningful glance at his right hand in the cast and sling. "I'd probably shoot off my foot with my left."

"Oh." So Jack offered the second gun to Jennifer. "Can you use this?" She took it tentatively, but nodded. Jack was not reassured that she actually knew what she was doing, but he let her have it.

The door opened.

Libby found herself at the wrong end of four guns. Her eyes went huge in fright and she took a step back, before recovering with a hand against her chest and a heart-felt exhalation. "Jeez, next time I'll knock!"

Jack lowered his gun, feeling a little guilty. That feeling lasted until he saw the two guards at her heels, as she came in. He snapped his gun up again. But he was the only one who did, he realized.

"Relax," Libby bid him. "This is Kenny and Richard."

The two young men shifted nervously. Jack smiled brightly, "So, you're the guys who offered to set Markus and Daniel free?"

"Sir," Kenny stood at attention, but looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. "Yes, sir."

Jack nodded his approval. "That took guts. So that's why you're going to help us go break them out."

They exchanged a look and then faced him again. "Okay," Richard said.

Jack was impressed, but Kawalsky more skeptical, "Really? Just like that? You do realize that what we're planning is illegal and against orders? That General Waverly is going to be really pissed at anyone who helps us?"

"Yes, sir, we know," Kenny answered, not flinching.

"All right, then," Jack looked around at his group, deciding who to take and who to leave. This ought to be a quick extraction -- enough force to overwhelm the few men who manned the guard room, and meet back here. "Devon, Libby, Jennifer, and Kawalsky, you four stay here. Watch our friends. Everyone else, let's go."

Kawalsky opened his mouth to object, then shut it again. They couldn't leave Devon and Libby protected by only one person who could, maybe, use her gun. Jack needed Gordon, both his weapon and his portable pharmacy, and he needed Kenny and Richard to get him into the guard room and hold the guards at bay. So Kawalsky had to stay.

That reasoning went through Kawalsky's eyes in an instant. "Hurry. If we hear trouble, we're coming in after you."

He gave his sidearm to Kenny, as Jack handed his to Richard, though not without a qualm. He really hated giving guns to people he didn't know. But he gave a tight nod of acknowledgment to Kawalsky and said to the others, "Let's move out."

The corridor was all but empty, except for two soldiers, way down at the end of the hall, who soon passed out of sight. Jack paused, glanced both ways again, and felt very cold. "I hate to use a cliché," he muttered to Gordon, "but I have a bad feeling about this."

The Tok'ra nodded. "Yes, I agree. Kenny, Richard, proceed," he directed. "The sooner we spring the trap, the better."

The two guards led the way to the brig entrance, where there was no one on duty on the outside. Jack immediately shoved in the clip for his MP-5. This was wrong. He had the horrible feeling that Simmons had already taken control of Markus and Daniel and moved them someplace else.

Gordon apparently had the same thought. He muttered angrily, "We're too late."

Hearing him say it out loud made Jack want to be contrary. "Maybe. We don't know that." He indicated Kenny and Richard, who had paused outside the main door, with Kenny's hand on the keypad next to the door. "Open it up and let's see."

Kenny opened the door and stood aside, so the other three could point their weapons, ready to fire at anyone who might be inside.

Jack peered around the door frame to look inside. The room seemed empty from what he could see. He glanced at Gordon, whose hand was tense on his gun. The Tok'ra narrowed his eyes, focusing those symbiote-enhanced senses to see if the room was truly as empty as it looked.

He nodded, held up his free hand and flashed five fingers for the other three to see. Jack figured at least one was on the other side of the wall, and the others were likely behind the desks. He let his gun hang from its strap and pulled out one of his grenades. He yanked the pin and tossed it onto the floor in the middle of the room, carefully holding on to the rest of the grenade. "That was the pin to a frag grenade, in case you were wondering," he called into the silent room. "I know you're in there. And if you don't come into view, in five seconds with your hands up, I'm going to throw the rest of it in there."

"O'Neill?" a male voice called from behind the farther desk. "What the hell are you doing?" Makepeace's head rose cautiously above the desk to look at Jack, perplexed but suspicious. "You're no lackey of Simmons'. Or are you?"

"No," Jack retorted. "I'm not. Why are you here?"

"President's orders to keep the prisoners in the brig," Makepeace explained, still mostly crouched behind one of the metal desks. "You?"

Jack flashed an unfriendly smile. "I'm here to rescue the prisoners."

Makepeace looked surprised. "You're kidding me. Aren't you the one who told me I was a fool for bucking the system?"

Jack had the uncomfortable realization that his other self wasn't quite as honorable as he had hoped. "Yeah, well, some of us take longer to figure things out, that's all. But if you're here to keep the prisoners in, that's a problem." His hand tightened on the grenade, hoping Makepeace would be smart about this. They were allies -- or should be -- and fighting each other would just play into Simmons' hands.

The former colonel's gaze flickered with thought and his lips turned upward suddenly. He snapped out, "Captain Leyva! We are not in the way, are we?"

Out of Jack's sight, on the other side of the wall from where he stood, someone else answered back smartly, "No, sir."

Makepeace stood up, gun dangling from his finger by the trigger guard. "Funny," he said to no one in particular, "the door's open but I don't see anyone there."

Hoping this was the right thing to do, Jack walked through the open doorway. "I'm going to get the pin," he announced. "Nobody panic."

Gordon followed in, getting another surprised look from Makepeace, but this look turned more thoughtful and he nodded to himself. The two guards came in, and shut the door. They both stood stiffly -- wary but polite. "Colonel," Richard greeted him, making Makepeace almost smile. He didn't refuse the rank either, Jack noticed with some amusement, as he carefully replaced the pin and put the grenade back in his vest.

"Kenny, the keys," Gordon said. "We'll go get them. Jack, perhaps you should remain here. This may take a few minutes." He glanced deliberately at the Marines, concerned that they might get in the way, after all.

"I'm not going to stop you, doc," Makepeace said, sounding offended that Gordon distrusted him.

"Good. See that you don't," Gordon advised and disappeared through the connecting door, with Kenny behind him.

"All sorts of people getting in trouble today," Jack remarked, and Makepeace laughed shortly.

"I figured Simmons was going to make his move today to take personal custody of the prisoners," he explained. "President Emerson wanted to make sure that didn't happen."

Jack frowned. "So, what, you're the president's personal guard now?"

Makepeace glared at him sourly, knowing what Jack was implying and not exactly denying it either. "He knows I've got no love for Waverly or Simmons. And I'm not afraid of them." Makepeace replaced his sidearm forcefully in its holster. "_**Somebody**_ should be loyal to the commander-in-chief," he added pointedly.

Jack wanted to say Emerson was just a puppet, and the only reason he had any power at all was because Makepeace gave it to him, but he remembered the other Marines in the room and changed the subject. "Speaking of … we ran into Ramirez and Corrigan. They're tied up in the rec room," Jack offered. "Corrigan claimed that they were grouping down here."

Makepeace frowned. "Down here? No, that's not what we heard…" he trailed off thoughtfully. "Sergeant, call the major and confirm his situation."

"Yes, sir." The indicated man sat at the desk and the phone and murmured into it, before replacing the handset. "Sir, Major Kurakin reports no change at post beta."

"What are they doing?" Makepeace muttered to himself. "They're on level three, just sitting there. Getting ready, but for what? Coming here? Going after Emerson? Taking the control room?"

Jack couldn't help him figure it out, but he knew, either way, they couldn't afford to stay here too long. He turned to Richard. "Go get the others and bring them here. I want us all together."

Richard acknowledged and left, leaving Jack alone with the five Marines. But he felt safe enough as he waited. The bad guys were out there, but they weren't in here. Not yet.

\---+---

When the hall door opened, Daniel popped up off the cot and moved to the front of the cell. He was soon rewarded by the sight of Gordon and Kenny approaching. Kenny put the key in the lock and opened the door wide.

Gordon stepped in. "It's time," he announced. "We are leaving." Without hesitation, he handed his pistol to Daniel and knelt on the floor next to where Markus was lying on his cot. "No, wait," he said, as Markus shifted to get up. He withdrew a syringe from his inner pocket. "This will boost your blood pressure," he explained. "The effect is only temporary, unfortunately, and it is not a pain suppressant but it will enable you to walk and be alert."

Markus held out his right arm. "Okay. Do it."

Gordon pushed up the jacket sleeve above his elbow on his right hand, the elastic cuff acting as a tourniquet. "Make a fist," he requested. As he felt lightly for a vein, he said apologetically, "I had no time to add buffers, so I am sorry if there is some discomfort. It will pass."

Daniel hovered close, watching, as Gordon injected Markus slowly with the entire contents of the small syringe. He didn't react to the poke itself, but the instant the Tok'ra depressed the plunger, he flinched. "Oh, burns," he gasped, reflexively trying to pull away. Gordon clamped down on his arm with his other hand, holding him still so he could finish administering the drug.

Markus' body went rigid, and his head went back, neck muscles cording with strain. Every panting breath was an agonized cry through clenched teeth, as he tried to hold back a scream.

"It will pass," Gordon reassured him, even though he probably couldn't hear it. "I am sorry. I didn't know it would be so bad." He pulled out the needle and touched Markus' fist, which had bunched the blanket in a desperate white-knuckled grip.

Helpless, Daniel could only watch as Markus fought the drug. But gradually he began to take more regular breaths, and his pain-stiffened limbs relaxed. Eyes still closed, he muttered, "Fuck, that hurt."

Daniel heard Jack's familiar voice yell from the brig door, "We need to get a move on, people!"

"Just a minute," Daniel shouted back.

"Daniel -- " Jack returned impatiently, as if Daniel wanted five more minutes with some artifact, not that he was watching his friend suffer.

Gordon cut him off, calling out, "Markus had a reaction to the stimulant. We need a few more minutes, O'Neill."

That shut Jack up, and Daniel was pleased to see Markus open his eyes. "I'm suddenly very glad you never wanted to interrogate me," he said to Gordon hoarsely and had to clear his throat. "That was … " he shuddered and looked very pale. "I swear my blood was on fire."

"I am sorry," Gordon repeated, and busied himself with pulling down the jacket sleeve. But he seemed ashamed, to Daniel's gaze. "It was never my intent to cause you more pain, Markus. How do you feel now?"

Markus was quiet as he took stock of his condition. His tone was lightly sarcastic, when he spoke, "If your intent was to make me feel better by showing me how much worse it could be, well, it worked."

"Markus, he said he was sorry," Daniel said quietly. There was no need to make the Tok'ra feel worse about it than he clearly already did.

Not exactly either apologizing or forgiving Gordon, Markus was silent for several seconds, then said, "We need to get going. Help me up."

"Slowly," Gordon cautioned, extending his hand to help pull Markus upright. First to a sitting position, and when that seemed okay, Markus put his bare feet on the floor and stood up. Daniel and Gordon stood on either side, and they both caught him as he swayed and reached out blindly for something to hold onto.

His grip was tight on Daniel's shoulder. "Dizzy," he explained shortly, and rested while he took shallow and controlled breaths.

But soon he raised his head and let go of Daniel. "I'm all right," he said in response to Daniel's worried glance. Daniel looked into his face, and while "all right" couldn't possibly be true, he did look better. He also seemed to move more easily, and even inhaled a deep, albeit careful, breath, straightening his back and shoulders. "I am. I feel better. I'm tired of this place and their hospitality sucks. Let's go." He was the first through the door and thanked Kenny sincerely for his help, before heading down the corridor.

Behind his back, Daniel and Gordon shared a bemused look for Markus' sudden take-charge attitude, but Daniel shrugged a little. He wasn't sure how much of it was the drug, and how much sheer willpower, but he knew they had to take advantage of the burst of strength and follow along.

They were on Markus' heels as he went into the guard room. He hesitated when he saw the strangers, and Daniel slowed when he recognized Makepeace. But Jack was next to him, at relative ease, which helped Daniel relax.

Daniel stopped altogether when he saw Samuels perched on the edge of a desk with Libby hovering beside him. He looked like he'd been through a war, and his right arm was in a sling. Devon was the same as his universe's Samuels after all. After seeing him and Makepeace though, it wasn't that much of a shock to recognize Jennifer Hailey, in civvies, standing next to Kawalsky.

Jack smiled when he saw Markus and Daniel appear. "Ah, there you are finally." His tone was somewhat flippant, as his gaze went from Markus to Daniel, questioning whether Markus was up to it. Daniel had no answer to give him, but he nodded slightly. It wasn't like they had many options.

"So, you're the infamous Markus Alexander," Makepeace spoke up, giving him a hard, searching look. "The source of so much of the trouble."

Markus returned the look with a level one of his own, not backing down from the challenge. "I'd say Waverly was the source of the trouble myself," Markus said, "but I don't like to argue with people who hold guns on me." He glanced deliberately with narrowed eyes at one of Makepeace's Marines, whose gun was pointed in Markus' general direction, but only because he was staring. Daniel wasn't sure if it was because the young man was that disappointed or that impressed, but in either case, Markus was holding every eye in the place.

Makepeace gestured for his man to point the weapon downward. "Better?" he asked with half-mocking solicitude.

"Thank you. And I'm grateful for your help, assuming you _**are**_ helping," there was a question in his voice, but he didn't wait for Makepeace to answer it. Instead he glanced over at Devon and went to meet him. "And you must be Devon. I'm glad to finally meet you." Seeing that Devon's right arm was unavailable, Markus offered his left, grimacing at the motion, and they shook hands gingerly. "Jeremiah's a good man. You should be proud."

Devon nodded. "And I know Sean would be very proud of you, Markus."

Markus had spoken about his father a little during their captivity, so Daniel knew that it was Markus' father's name. But Markus seemed more uncomfortable with the approval than pleased. He turned away. "You should wait on that until we see how this turns out first. Jack, are we ready?"

"Ready or not, here we go," Jack answered. "Head 'em up and move 'em out, everybody. Kawalsky, you watch our six. Doc and I'll take point. Our walking wounded in the middle, everybody else find a slot." His gaze met Daniel's and then flicked to Markus, and Daniel understood the message. Markus was his charge to protect.

Glancing down at the Beretta Gordon had given him, Daniel hefted its now-familiar weight and nodded.

During the process of lining the group up, the telephone rang.

The Marine nearest picked it up. "Leyva. Go." He listened briefly and hung up the phone, before reporting to Makepeace. "Major Kurakin reports Grogan's group is on the move, by elevator, up to the first level."

Makepeace straightened sharply. "He's going after Emerson."

"No," Jennifer burst out in protest. "He wouldn't! Why on Earth would Simmons want Emerson dead? Emerson does whatever he wants."

"Not lately," Gordon corrected her. "He stepped between Simmons and Markus at least twice. That makes him a liability. My guess is Waverly would not support his intent, and now Simmons is taking advantage of the general's absence to move on Emerson."

"Over my dead body," Makepeace declared grimly. "I'm not letting that piranha take over Valhalla Sector."

Devon nodded once in agreement. "Emerson's bad enough. But Simmons would be worse."

"All right, you go save the president. As for the rest of us, there's no time like the present to do our thing," Jack announced. "If Simmons is busy trying to assassinate the president, he's not going to be blocking **our** way."

"Do you need these two?" Makepeace asked Jack, eyeing Kenny and Richard. "Because I could use 'em."

Jack shook his head. "No, they've done their part. But they'd better not be jarheads when I get back," he warned lightly.

Makepeace snorted, almost amused. But it passed. "All right, people, staircase bravo-three. Let's move." At the door, he glanced back, "Glad to see you finally stopped sitting on the damn fence, O'Neill."

Then like snow in the summer sun, the Marines plus two security guards melted out of the guard room and were gone.

"Funny," Jack muttered, just for Daniel's ears, "an ethics lesson from Makepeace. This planet is so screwed up." He raised his voice. "All right, they're leading the way, so let's go."

Eight people had little hope of stealth, so Jack led the way through the main corridor to the elevator and boldly called it.

Daniel stayed close to Markus, who seemed to be moving well enough. But when they waited for the elevator, he leaned against the wall and his hand went across his chest to brace his ribs, the look on his face carefully blank. Daniel opened his mouth to ask how he was doing, but shut it again. There wasn't any reason to make Markus lie to him, which he would, especially when the others were right there.

Jennifer moved to his side and looked up at him, speaking quietly, "My name's Jennifer. Lieutenant Grogan is my husband -- he's one of Simmons' -- " she started to explain.

"Yes, I know who he is," Markus interrupted. "And you're sick of his excesses and his cruelty and you'd like to leave and go back with me to Thunder Mountain. Am I right?"

She stared and then nodded. "Yes. Please," she added.

Markus coughed once into his sleeve, and then looked at her, his eyes holding hers. "If you want, you can. But I think you could do more good here. This place is about to fall apart, and it'll need people willing to do what is right. There's a whole world that needs this place and all the good it could do, if its leaders weren't corrupt."

The elevator doors slid open, cutting off any reply she might have made, but Daniel could see she looked thoughtful. She wasn't the only one either. Devon was also watching Markus, as if he'd suddenly realized what all the fuss was about.

The elevator had an older woman in it who looked highly surprised as Jack and Charlie reached in, took her arms and maneuvered her swiftly out of the elevator. "Sorry, ma'am," Charlie said. "You should go to your quarters and stay there."

She looked confused and frightened, watching the group pile on the elevator and the doors close behind them.

Gordon stabbed the button for level two, then settled against the wall, his arms folded. "Assuming we can take possession of the gym, then where, Devon?"

"Climb the ladder on the wall," Devon said. "There's a grate covering a large vent in the wall. It looks like it ought to be part of the ventilation system, but it's not. Someone got lazy in the construction and didn't connect it. Behind it is a small access way, a hatch, more tunnel, another hatch, and the surface."

"The perfect escape route," Jack murmured.

"Not so perfect," Devon said, with a dark look, "My wife died there, O'Neill. They shot her when she was a sitting duck on the ladder when we were trying to get out."

Jack flinched. "Sorry."

Gordon said calmly, "So then we must be sure to block the entrances to the gym, to prevent others from entering behind us."

Daniel felt Markus stir next to him, as though he was going to say something but then thought better of it. But Daniel had the feeling he knew what it was. Climbing a ladder and crawling around in tunnels was not going to be fun for him. It might not even be possible.

"Is there any other way?" Daniel asked.

"Daniel, if there was another way out, don't you think we'd use it?" Jack snapped irritably.

Daniel subsided, knowing there wasn't any other choice. They'd just have to do what was necessary.

The elevator slowed, preparing to stop. Gordon pulled Markus behind him in the corner by the buttons, while Libby did the same with Devon on the opposite side, though Devon resisted her protection more. Daniel and Jennifer lifted their guns, ready to help with cover fire. Jack and Charlie stood in the middle, their submachine guns high and ready to clear a path if necessary.

The doors opened.

Two men and a woman, all young civilians by the look of them, were waiting for the elevator. They weren't armed at all, so far as Daniel could see. Their faces turned pale and shocked when they saw what was suddenly facing them, and they stepped back, backing more when Jack and Charlie got off without lowering their weapons.

"One side, people," Jack ordered. "Clear the hall."

They jumped aside quickly and the others filed out the doors. Daniel tried to give the three a smile, but doubted they even saw him, staring at the parade going by. He could see the instant the woman realized what was happening by the start she gave and the sudden intensity of her gaze as she looked at Markus.

"Go to your quarters and stay there," Kawalsky advised them as he went past, bringing up the rear.

Jack turned and started down the hall again, poking his head around the corners to spot anyone before they spotted him. Daniel noticed that Jack's clearing was faster and less thorough than usual -- he didn't seem to expect enemies lying in wait. Or maybe he was feeling some of the same anxiety Daniel was, that they had to hurry.


	30. Chapter 30

Jack knew the operation was going south the minute he heard a shout, "It's O'Neill!"

He looked that way, and saw Lieutenant Grogan and five other armed men about fifty feet down the cross corridor. They must have just turned into it, because the corridor had been empty when he'd led his little band across.

He targeted his MP-5 that direction, and shouted, "Stop where you are!"

But of course, they didn't stop. Instead, they went for cover in the door alcoves, and the loud chatter of weapons fire echoed down the corridor as each group started firing.

Jack tucked behind the corner, and swept his barrel across the corridor on full auto to make Grogan's people keep their heads down, as Kawalsky dove across, his weapon also going.

Glancing over his shoulder, he checked that everyone else had made it, and saw to his relief that they had. "Keep going," he ordered. "We'll hold them off."

Daniel and Gordon nodded, and urged Devon and Markus forward. Jennifer's brown eyes touched Jack's, and he saw the anger there, not directed at him but at her husband who was down the corridor shooting at them. She held her pistol in a two handed grip tightly, and he thought for a moment she might refuse and try to shoot Grogan on her own, but she ran after the others.

Grogan's men paused for a moment in one of those lulls that happened in a firefight between two groups who both had cover, and Jack leaned cautiously around the corner to see what mischief they were up to. Kawalsky let off another group of rounds to keep them down.

There was a small canister of something rolling their way down the corridor.

Jack swore and yanked Kawalsky with him, down the corridor. "Grenade!"

The explosion smacked them to the floor, like a heavy, hot hand. Jack lay stunned for a second, then shook his head, trying to clear the ringing from his ears. He climbed to his knees, checked his weapon, and turned to make sure Grogan wasn't coming up behind.

The corridor was still clear, but it wouldn't last. "Come on, Kawalsky!"

"I'm okay," Kawalsky confirmed and got to his feet, giving Jack an assist with a shove. "Go."

They ran, catching up to the others. Libby was just pulling open the door to the gym. "Hurry! Go in!" Jack yelled. "And find a way to block it."

He and Kawalsky ran backward, watching for the first of Grogan's men to poke a weapon or a face around the corridor. When he did, they both fired, spraying bits of concrete wall all over the place. Grogan's team snaked their guns around the corner and sprayed bullets wildly, with no hope of actually hitting anything. Kawalsky managed to peg one of the guns with one of his bullets, knocking it out of the soldier's hand and wrenching a cry of pain from him.

Then Jack was through the door, into the gym, and the instant Kawalsky was through, Jennifer slammed the door behind them.

"Move!" Gordon ordered, and Jack jumped aside as the Tok'ra single-handedly tipped over a free-standing group of metal lockers. It fell on its side with a resounding crash. But it perfectly blocked the door. Nobody was getting through there any time soon.

Satisfied, Jack looked around. The gym ceiling was two floors up, hung with pipes and air conditioning units and banks of fluorescents. He spotted the ladder on the opposite wall that would access the catwalks up there as well as the grate in the wall that was their way out. There were only two other doors, one on each end, with basketball hoops hanging above them from the ceiling.

But no one could play ball in this gym. The floor was a labyrinth of metal bunkbeds, all neatly made with identical white pillows and gray blankets, and more of the standing metal lockers, to make up a barracks.

In the moment of silence, a coldly amused and mocking voice called across the gym, "'Will you come into my parlor?' said the spider to the fly, 'for it's the prettiest little parlor ever you did spy.'"

Simmons. Jack felt his whole insides grow cold as he realized they'd fallen right into his trap. Grogan hadn't been there to stop them, he'd been there to push them in. And they'd ever so helpfully even blocked their own exit.

Markus visibly blanched when he heard the voice, looking so ill Jack worried he might faint. He didn't collapse, but he did have to grab for the nearest post of one of the bunkbeds. Jack totally understood the reaction -- he always had to fight the urge to vomit when he heard Baal's voice.

But Markus lifted his head, looking determined, and quoted back, "'Unto an evil counselor, close heart and ear and eye, and take a lesson from the story of the spider and the fly.'"

"Bravo, Markus! Very quick." The sound of a single person clapping echoed in the gym as Simmons answered. There was no other sound. "Did you all seriously believe that I didn't know about such an obvious hole in our security? I've known about this rabbit hole since the beginning. But I knew that someday I'd catch bigger fish, if I left it alone. And here we are." He laughed in smug satisfaction. "Now let's see if you know tactics, as well as nursery rhymes, Markus. You and your friends are trapped in here. There's no way out. I have men ready to follow my orders and kill everyone with you. But of course, I realize the traitors with you have guns, too. It could be very … messy. So, here's my offer -- you surrender to me, and I'll let the rest go. They can go to Thunder Mountain or wherever, I don't care. But I'm not finished with you yet."

While Simmons spoke, Jack fingered his weapon and looked for targets. But he couldn't see any. They were there, somewhere. He could feel them. But this place could be packed with the entire 101st Airborne and he wouldn't see them behind the lockers or on top or beneath the beds.

But the absurdity of the 'offer' made him laugh. Jack had heard more believable offers from Anubis. "Yeah, right, Simmons. You're gonna just let the rest of us go. Even Devon?"

"Ah, O'Neill," Simmons said in that condescending voice that _**grated**_ on Jack's nerves. "Someday I'd like to be wrong. But I've known you were a traitor for fifteen years -- you just didn't have the guts to do anything about it. To answer your question, yes, I'll even let Devon go." Simmons raised his voice so it echoed. "So, what'll be, Markus? Are you willing to trade all these lives for your own?"

Jack snorted and muttered, "Yeah, right. Like we believe a _**word**_ you say, you lying waste of good air."

But when he glanced at Markus, he saw something he didn't like at all. Resignation. Acceptance. Jack realized to his horror that Markus was going to do it. "Markus, you know he's lying, don't you? He's not going to let anybody go. He can't."

"We won't let him take you," Daniel promised him, meaning to be reassuring. But it was the wrong thing to say.

"So, what then? You all get shot?" Markus retorted and shook his head once. "No, Daniel."

"No," Gordon said, "you cannot do this. I won't allow it."

"I'm not a fool," Markus sounded tired, yet still sharp and impatient. "I'm not getting better. I know -- I can feel -- time's running out. And I won't let all of you die in some useless, futile effort to save someone who can't be saved."

Jack watched, knowing he'd blown it. Mister Smith had said that Jack was necessary, but all he'd managed to do was lead them all straight into Simmons' trap. They could fight, but fight or not, Markus probably wasn't going to last another day. He would die, and quite possibly everyone in this room would too, and this Earth was going to fall under the boot heel of a sociopath.

"I hear you debating over there," Simmons taunted. "Come on, Markus, what's it going to be?"

Markus said to Daniel with soft regret, "I have no choice."

Daniel shook his head in helpless denial. But it was Gordon who spoke, the words coming slow and unwilling. "There is another way out."

Everyone looked at him. Before he could explain, Jack knew. Damn Tok'ra. _**Always**_ had to keep their secrets until it was almost too late. "Crystals," he spat in disgusted annoyance. "You have crystals, don't you?"

"Yes," Gordon admitted. "Only three. And I must have access to an outside wall, but they will work."

"You have tunnel crystals?" Daniel asked in amazement.

Kawalsky blinked in shock. "What the hell are you guys talking about?"

"Not now," Jack hushed him, glaring at Gordon. "And when were you going to mention this? Damn it, I've told you people time and time again _**no surprises**_ especially when -- "

The sound of Simmons' voice, now growing impatient, broke into his complaint. "Is this your answer, Markus? Should I order my troops to open fire, or are you going to do the smart thing and surrender yourself?"

Markus looked at Gordon and frowned, as if struck by an idea. He glanced up at the vent, and then from one end of the gym to the other as if checking for escape routes. Then he raised his voice and shouted back in a tone of weary defeat, "All right, Simmons, you win." Despite his words and his tone, the resignation was gone from his expression. Jack wondered did he trust Gordon so much that he could get them out with tunnel crystals? Did he even know what tunnel crystals were?

Gordon and Daniel tried to object, but Markus held up a hand to stop them. He continued laying out his conditions to Simmons, "You gather your men at the north end. I'll go to the middle, where you can see me. And my friends go to the south door and they leave."

He had a plan. Jack had no idea what it was, but he knew Markus had come up with a plan.

Simmons laughed. "So you have reinforcements coming in the north end, do you? I don't think so. My men gather at the south, and the traitors go north."

Jack frowned. Reinforcements? Did Simmons really think there were reinforcements? Of course, if there were, it wouldn't be good for Simmons' men to get caught between the two groups. But it didn't matter, since there weren't any.

Markus was looking intently in the direction of Simmons' voice, and his face didn't change. He paused a moment then answered, "Fine. You move first."

It was like being caught in a life-sized game of chess, Jack reflected. No one else might well have been in the room. All of Markus' attention was focused in the direction of Simmons, as they all heard Simmons order his men toward the south door and the following sounds of movement. They had brief glimpses of fatigue-clad men as they withdrew from their hidden positions. Not that Simmons would pull them all back, Jack was sure. Weasels never kept their end of a bargain.

"I hope this is a good plan," Jack muttered to Markus. "What am I supposed to do?"

But Markus didn't answer. He was leaning against the bunkbed, gripping the support post in his right hand. His jaw was set and tight, and Jack noticed sweat beading on his forehead. They waited until the soldiers gathered at the south end.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Simmons called and laughed once. "We're ready. Come to the center aisle where I can see you."

Without looking at anyone, Markus ordered very quietly, "Go to the north door and wait."

"Wait for what?" Jack asked.

"If I'm right, you'll know," Markus answered, and gave a gasping chuckle. "If I'm wrong, you'll know that too."

"We can't leave you here," Daniel said anxiously. "Markus, he wants you dead."

"No, he wants me to suffer. That's not the same. Please, Daniel, just go," Markus finally turned his head and looked at Daniel. His dark eyes held a plea that no one could have resisted, least of all Daniel. "Go," he repeated in a whisper. "It's okay."

"If you're sure..." Daniel trailed off doubtfully.

Jack grabbed Daniel's sleeve and met Kawalsky's gaze, and indicated with a jerk of his chin that he was to get the other three going.

Kawalsky herded Devon and the two women along the outer perimeter of the gym, his weapon ready for treachery as he went down the aisle between beds and their accompanying bank of lockers against the wall on one side, with beds against the back of lockers on the other side. But there was so much cover for troops lying in ambush there wasn't much point in too much stealth.

Jack pulled Daniel with him, and Gordon brought up the reluctant rear, leaving Markus where he was. Just as Jack and Daniel reached the corner and had to turn to go down the cross aisle, Jack glanced back to see Markus let go of the bed and disappear, going toward Simmons.

Boy, did he hope Markus knew what he was doing.

\---+---

As he walked slowly down the empty aisle toward the middle of the gym, Markus could have told Jack that he knew exactly what he was doing. The problem was that he didn't know what _**other people**_ were doing. He guessed, but that was all it was, a guess. He wished he'd thought of it before, though. This situation might not have happened at all if his mind had been clearer, and he'd realized why Grogan was in the wrong place.

At least he felt better. Although Gordon had said his stimulant didn't have any pain-killers in it, the pills he'd taken earlier must still be working since his injuries were only a low, background throb and occasional twinge, easy to ignore when his mind had something else to think about.

But of course, if he was wrong, this was probably the last time he would feel so good. He doubted Simmons would continue the interrogation, once he realized his prisoner was so close to the edge. He'd want to carry out the death sentence for its full value of terror and an example of his power, since dead men couldn't be executed. But Markus couldn't find the energy to be afraid. Maybe later, while watching the kindling being stacked at his feet, but not right now. Right now, he still had hope.

He paused to breathe and gather his nerve. '_Please let this work,'_ he urged anyone who might hear his wish, and then walked out into the main north-south aisle, which was about six feet wide and ran all the way from door to door.

Glancing briefly to his right, he saw his friends, huddled behind cover near the doors but thankfully not right in front of them. Then he turned to face the other doors, and the uniformed men infesting the end of the aisle. Markus pretended not to notice the dozen bright red laser targeting dots on his chest.

A few soldiers drew back, letting him see Simmons in the aisle. He was smiling in triumph, eyes glittering.

"Very wise choice," Simmons praised. "Now walk toward me. When you are in my custody, we'll leave. And your friends can go their own way."

Markus wondered if the offer might actually be sincere. He saw no treachery in Simmons' face, only the lustful eagerness of a twisted child opening a special Christmas present.

He started to walk, slowly. But as he got closer to Simmons, nothing happened. '_Come on, where the hell are you?' _he wondered. This was going to be a spectacularly bad time to be wrong. All the while, Simmons watched him, smirking with pleasure over his simple victory.

But he didn't have all that long to savor it, as they both heard the hollow thumps and clacking of a distant gun battle. Finally. It was difficult to tell at first where it was coming from, but then he was sure. It was exactly where he thought it would be.

The cold triumph on Simmons' face melted away for uncertainty, anger, and disbelief. He turned to look at the doors behind him. "No! Stop them!" he ordered, but it was too late.

The doors exploded open, one ripped off its hinges altogether and smashing to the floor, the other slamming back into the wall.

'_About time_,' Markus thought in that tiny space between seeing the explosion and feeling it. He tried to get out of the way of the blast, but was too slow -- a hot gust of hurricane wind shoved him nearly off his feet. Stumbling to catch his balance, he crashed into the nearest bunkbed. He grabbed at it trying to stay up, but the blanket came loose in his hand, and he fell to the floor.

A cry ripped from his throat, as the impact jarred his ribs. Bile filled his throat, choking him, but when he tried to cough to clear it, the entire left side of his body was full of blades of burning ice. There was no room for air.

He had a moment to appreciate the irony that he was going to die here anyway, even though everything had gone _**right**_. Then he slipped away into the dark.

\---+---

Jack heard the sounds of the approaching firefight, and his grip tightened on his gun. He just had time to warn the others, "Get ready."

A grenade or two took out the door at the other end of the gym. Markus caught the edge of the blast, got spun around like a toy, and went down. Daniel yelled Markus' name, but kept his head and stayed in cover.

"Kill them!" Simmons roared in a fury.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Makepeace and his gaggle of Marines appeared in the shattered doorway. They were firing, and Simmons' soldiers were firing back furiously, forcing them back out of sight.

But the bullets weren't flying only at the opposite end of the gym, as he realized when the locker at his shoulder shuddered at the impact of a slug just around the edge from where he was kneeling. "Watch yourselves!" he shouted in warning, barely able to hear himself above the ringing in his ears.

There were at least three of the enemy still at this end of the gym, he realized after gauging the directions of the incoming fire. But his people were in good position -- Kawalsky was at the other end of the locker that was also Jack's cover. Daniel was on the other side of the aisle from Jack, crouched at the end of one of the bunkbeds. Jennifer was covering Devon and Libby, who were crouched together on the other side of Daniel, against the next group of lockers.

And Gordon was … Jack glanced quickly around again, but the Tok'ra was gone from his place on the other side of Kawalsky. Crap, now what was he up to?

Gesturing to Kawalsky to watch their flank, since Gordon wasn't covering it anymore, he cautiously leaned out into the aisle again and nearly got a face full of bullets, if not for turtling his head back quickly enough. He stuck his MP-5 around the corner and let off a quick spray, following to take a quick look.

One of Simmons' men down the aisle was trying to slip around the end of the bed where Markus had fallen. '_Don't think so_,' Jack thought grimly and carefully squeezed off two shots. The would-be attacker fell backward to the floor.

When Jack was able to look out into the aisle again, he saw someone else creeping near Markus. A dark shape was wriggling in the shadows underneath the bed. His finger tightened on the trigger, ready to fire the instant he had a shot. Black hair edged cautiously into the light, but Jack recognized the white coat just in time.

Without rising, Gordon grabbed Markus' wrists and began scooting back under the bed, pulling Markus with him.

Jack helped, letting off another stream of cover fire. But then Kawalsky shouted in desperate warning, "They're above!"

Kawalsky pegged an enemy who'd crawled up on the top of the bunkbeds and was using the upper beds and top of the lockers as a freeway. The soldier tumbled to the floor with a fleshy thunk.

But he wasn't the only one. The locker shuddered under his shoulder, but not with gunshots. Someone was running along the top. Jack looked up, muzzle of his weapon searching, but all he could see was a bit of pants, an elbow, and a gun, pointing to his left.

"Daniel!" Jack yelled, knowing Daniel was going to be fully in the enemy's sight. Daniel had already noticed, thankfully. He dove across the bunk-bed, rolling, as bullets tracked him across the blankets, kicking up fluff, until the angle was too steep and the bullets hit the lockers instead. Jack had a glimpse of Daniel, pressed up against the back of the locker, expression set and grim, with a tight grip on his handgun.

But out of nowhere, someone fired and the guy above Jack suddenly plummeted to the ground, not far away. Jack whipped his head around, knowing it couldn't have been Kawalsky, to see Gordon had come back. The Tok'ra was on one knee, gun still up. And Markus, thankfully, was crawling out from under the cot behind him, looking pale but otherwise okay.

Jack gave the Tok'ra a nod, and turned back to check the status of the women and Devon. Jennifer was still watching their flank, peeking around the corner to the aisle along the wall and shooting occasionally. But now he saw her finger pull the trigger but nothing happened. She did it again, and her face went white as she realized she was out of ammo. Jack grabbed his extra clip from his vest and yelled Libby's name, sliding it along the floor toward her to grab and give to Jennifer.

But Jennifer wasn't paying attention to her. She came to her feet, staring down the far aisle, and the empty gun held out in front of her, as a soldier came around the corner. He was smiling a little, knowing she was out of ammo. He pulled the trigger on his own MP-5, just as Jack leaned out to get a clear shot at him, knowing he was going to be just a little too late.

The enemy soldier fell, and Jack flinched, expecting Jennifer to fall too. But she turned, looking a bit dazed, but otherwise completely unhurt.

"NO!" Libby screamed, her voice carrying over the sound of ongoing gun-fire.

To his dismay, Jack saw that Devon had been hit. It was hard to tell where, with Libby leaning over him like that, but he saw blood spattered on the sling.

"O'Neill!" Gordon was suddenly at his side. "Markus is with us. We must fall back and use the crystals. I will help Devon."

Jack nodded, definitely agreeing with that assessment, and with Jack giving him cover with the last of his first clip for the MP-5, Gordon leaped across the wide aisle to go to Devon. He gave Kawalsky and Daniel the signal to fall back, indicating the doors behind them as he changed out the clip.

He also pulled out both his smoke grenades and tossed them a little ways down the main aisle. Once smoke began pouring out, it was time to go.

Kawalsky was first to the doors, and he pushed them open, with his gun ready. He apparently didn't find any hostiles, since he gestured for the others to come. Gordon and Libby helped Devon, and the others followed, while Jack held the rear. He tossed his last grenade just to be sure, and let the doors close behind him.

The concussive blast hit the doors, but it was far enough away that they held. Simmons would take a little while to follow.

He put in his last clip for the MP-5, and looked around. They had found a small locker room with benches and an open door leading into a room with a row of sinks and mirrors. The whole place stank of mildew and the floor was damp. Although some effort had been made to repair it years ago, there were cracks and missing tiles all over the place.

Gordon eased Devon down onto one of the benches, and Libby scooted behind him, to hold him against her chest. Jack kept most of his attention on the gym doors, even as Kawalsky kept most of his on the opposite door to the sinks, since that was the passage to the outer corridor, but they both glanced over their shoulders at Devon.

It looked bad, Jack saw that right away, before Gordon knelt down in front of him to tend him. The shot had gone just beneath his breast bone and blood was already spreading across his shirt, even as Gordon took off his lab coat and wadded it up to put it against the wound. Had he been at home, with access to an ambulance, paramedics, and a hospital staffed with nurses and surgeons, he'd be fine. Heck, had he been in the SGC infirmary under Doc Frasier's care, he'd probably be fine. But here, it was different.

"You're gonna be okay," Libby said into his hair, holding his shoulders tightly. But Jack could tell by the desperate tone in her voice that she knew otherwise. "You're gonna be okay, Devon. You just have to hold on. We can surrender, and they'll take you to the infirmary--"

Devon shook his head, and said in a surprisingly firm voice, though laced with growing shock, "No. No surrender." He held up his free hand a little ways and beckoned with his fingers. "Markus."

Markus came forward, Daniel hovering beside him in case he faltered. But he seemed strong and alert, attention wholly on Devon. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "This isn't, at all, what I wanted."

"I know," Devon said. "It's not your fault." He tried to lift his hand again, gave up with a gasp, and told Libby, "Get the letter and give it to him." Sniffing, she reached into the sling and drew out a sealed yellow envelope, which she handed to Markus.

He took it in his hand, read the front, and his gaze snapped up to Devon's. "I can't take this -- "

"You have to," Devon told him and demanded with hoarse urgency, "Promise me, you will. He has to get that -- he has to know -- promise me."

After a tiny hesitation, Markus nodded, "I will."

"I trust you to look after my son," Devon said, more weakly now that he was reassured the envelope would be delivered. He sank back against Libby. "Tell Jeremiah -- I loved him. I want him to live in freedom. And to have peace."

"He will," Markus whispered. He held the envelope in his hand as gently as if it were a butterfly, and there was grief and regret, and no little guilt, in his eyes, but also fierce determination.

Devon nodded once and shifted his gaze to Jack. "Give me your gun. I'll keep those bastards off your back as long as I can."

"No, please," Libby protested helplessly, taking his good hand in her own and kissing the side of his face. "Don't do this… You don't have to be so brave."

He turned his hand to brush her cheek. "Love you, too, Liberty," he murmured. "You be a good girl," he admonished with a fleeting smile, and looked at Jack and Gordon. "Hurry."

Jack fiercely didn't want to leave Devon there. But when Gordon took him from Libby's arms and settled him as gently as possible in the corner away from the door to the gym, Jack followed, unhooking the strap of his MP-5. He propped the weapon between Devon's knees on the wadded jacket, and guided his fingers to the trigger. "It's set to full auto," he explained, unnecessarily, but he didn't know what else to say. He hated leaving people behind and more, he hated leaving people behind to sacrifice their lives. But sometimes the options all sucked, and at least this was the honorable one.

Their eyes met for a long moment, and Jack just nodded, impressed and touched. This wasn't the Samuels of his reality, but a far braver and more idealistic man.

Gordon set his hand gently on Devon's good shoulder. "Goodbye, my friend," Gordon said with that unblinking somber face. "You will be long remembered."

Devon seemed like he was going to say something else, but at the sound of noises in the gym, said instead, "Go. Quick."

Jack agreed. He waved Kawalsky forward into the room with the sinks, and everyone else started to follow. Jennifer first, seemingly on autopilot, since she still hadn't put in a new clip and her eyes were glazed. Gordon pulled a reluctant Libby through the archway. Daniel handed Jack his gun and grasped Markus' shoulder to steady him as he stepped over the ledge that separated the two rooms.

Jack glanced one last time at Devon, who was watching the door to the gym with unwavering determination. He wasn't going to let anyone pass, at least until he had an empty clip or could no longer pull the trigger.

With a heavy heart, Jack went through, and closed the door behind him.

\---+---

When he passed into the wash room, Markus was grateful for Daniel's hand. The drugs and adrenaline-inspired strength that had gotten him out of the gym on his own feet was still humming through him. But the feeling reminded him of pulling all-nighters back in the lab, when he'd been exhausted but so over-caffeinated he'd been jittery. His steps seemed to be just slightly off, as though his brain was calculating the distance of the floor at an inch different than it really was. Worse, being alert wasn't doing anything about the renewed stabbing ache in his left side, which was catching his breath and making him nauseous. It made him want to hunch over as he walked, but he tried to keep upright, thinking of the letter in his jacket pocket. He was well aware of Devon and the sacrifice he was making.

For him. That was what burned most. Oh, he could cloak it in other words -- that Devon was sacrificing himself for the cause of justice and freedom and all those things and it would be true. But it was for Markus, really, and he knew it. While he had no problem with sacrificing his own life, he had never wanted anyone else to sacrifice theirs for him.

It wasn't right. His ideas weren't special or unique. He had the good fortune of being in the position to do something about them, but there were others who could take over. He wasn't irreplaceable, and yet people were persisting in treating him that way, even Simmons. He couldn't figure it out, and finally gave up the effort for some future time when he was thinking more clearly.

He glanced at the mirror as he passed and studiously avoided his reflection again. He wasn't particularly vain, but it was depressing how awful he looked -- pallid, unshaven, and dirty. The image made his scalp itch, and he longed for the showers visible through the open archway to his left.

He stopped, and frowned at the series of curtained shower stalls. If he had the layout of this place correct in his mind, he had an idea.

"What is it?" Daniel asked. "Are you okay?"

"Gordon!" Markus called. The Tok'ra turned around and Markus pointed into the shower room. "Did you say you needed an outer wall?"

Gordon raised his brows in surprise and then frowned. "Yes, you are right. The outer wall should be that way. Let me see if there is any access."

"It's the shower room," Libby complained, watching Gordon go down the way. "There's no way out."

"Good point. But we might need a place to hide," Jack answered glibly. "Charlie, let's check the hall."

They went to the far end of the room where there was a double metal door, leaving Markus with Daniel. Markus wedged himself against one of the sinks, knowing if he sat down he probably couldn't get up again. The room made a slow, nauseating slide out of focus, and he shut his eyes until the feeling passed.

"Here," Daniel handed him another of the white pills. "You look like you need it."

Markus swallowed it dry, and watched Jack open half the door cautiously, Charlie kneeling beside him with weapon ready.

The door was pelted by gun fire and Jack let it slam shut again. "Damn it. I was hoping Makepeace took them out."

They were trapped, Markus realized, unless these tunnel crystals of Gordon's did as their name implied. They needed help. "Jack, your radio."

Jack glanced at him impatiently. "We can't call outside, and I don't think that'd be much help anyway."

God, did Jack really think he was that stupid? Of course he wasn't saying they should call for help from Lee and Teal'c outside. He clutched the sink, trying to stay grounded when the people and walls around him suddenly seemed far away. "Call Makepeace. He was wearing a radio."

The light dawned. Jack switched on his radio and clicked it. "O'Neill to Makepeace. If you can hear me, Rob, we need you on the other side. Corridor alpha-three. We're pinned down in the bathroom."

Grogan answered instead, gloating, "Thanks for the heads-up, O'Neill. I'll be waiting for him. And if you'd like to surrender, do it now, before we take all you traitors down. Oh, and if you can hear me, Jenny -- I think we'll have to party with the men tonight, sweetheart. I know how much you enjoy that. Grogan out."

Markus hadn't thought he could feel worse, but Grogan's implication was more than enough. To think he had suggested that she stay in this hell-hole even for an instant.

"Son of a bitch," Jack growled in fury, and turned to her, where she looked pale and her hands were tight on the gun. "We'll kill him for you, Hailey, I promise." She just nodded, but Markus suspected Jennifer might be first in line.

Jack glared at Charlie. "Toss a frag his way. He may know Makepeace is coming up on his six, but we can keep his attention."

"No problem." Charlie slipped an arm outside and tossed the grenade down the hall, then hunkered down as the explosion slammed into the door.

Markus flinched violently and would have fallen if Daniel hadn't been right there to hold him up. His legs felt rubbery and the edges of his vision grayed out.

"Hang in there," Daniel urged him and raised his voice, "Gordon! How's it going?"

"It's an outer wall," Gordon called back. "However, I need to make a hole." There was the sound of metal smashing into tile.

Libby frowned at them. "What the --"

The sound of Devon's gunfire through the far door cut her off. His weapon chattered briefly and then fell quiet.

Her dark eyes narrowed and her whole face took on a cold cast of anger.

Jack was suddenly back with them. "Time's getting short," he said, "which is why we've got to make sure that Makepeace heard us." He looked up at the air duct and frowned. "It's narrow. But there's no other way. You two will fit," he directed the words to Libby and Jennifer.

"She can go," Jennifer said. "I stick with you."

"This is a big place. The marines could be anywhere," Jack explained, as he handed his gun back to Daniel to hold and climbed up on to the sink. He hit the screen with his elbow twice and pulled it free, throwing it to the floor. He jumped down after it, staggering once to catch his balance. "All right, let's go, ladies. Once you find Makepeace or any of his guys, you do what they tell you and stay safe, okay? Don't take stupid chances."

Libby moved toward the sink. "All right. Do I get a gun?"

Jack shook his head. "We've only got three. The gun stays. In fact, I'll take that." He plucked the clip from her. "Go," Jack pointed upward to the hatch. "Hurry."

She seemed disappointed but accepted his decision. "Boost me up."

While he was helping her into the duct, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. "Stay alive, Jack. Good luck," she wished him and very shortly all they could hear was the soft scraping and light banging of her crawling across the ceiling.

"You next," Jack ordered Jennifer.

She crossed swiftly to Markus and kissed his cheek. "You have to stay free," she told him. "I'll do what I can, I promise, but we need you."

Markus wanted to protest that she shouldn't have such faith in him, when she didn't even know him, but he couldn't find the words before she turned away. Jack helped her up on to the sink and boosted her into the duct after Libby.

Jack returned to the door beside Charlie, and they started murmuring together, something about what to do, but Markus let the words pass through him. They'd tell him what he needed to do, but in the meantime, his main task was to keep up his strength.

He touched the letter again in promise, and hoped that he'd be able to give it to Jeremiah soon.

\---+---

Libby wormed her way through the dirty, smelly duct, cold rage building inside her heart with every inch forward, away from Devon.

Devon had made Valhalla Sector bearable for her. He'd taken a wounded girl under his wing and been nothing but good to her. Simmons had decided he was worthless, and just thrown him away. A good, kind man was bleeding out his life on the bathroom floor because Simmons had wanted to play with new toy Markus.

They were two peas in a pod, Devon and Markus. Devon she understood: he was old and so he preserved some of that old-world 'do the right thing' mentality. But Markus was only a little older than she was, and yet somehow he was still idealistic. One of those Libby would have said had no chance in the real world. She'd thought him soft, grown up in the protected halls of Thunder Mountain. But he hadn't folded to Simmons, proving he wasn't as weak as she'd thought.

That made him dangerous. Devon had been dangerous only for what he knew, but Markus was dangerous for who he was. His message had spread through Valhalla Sector like the Big Death itself, and his mere presence had overthrown a carefully nurtured balance of power in the base. If he lived, he would eventually succeed in his plans and his power would make Valhalla's seem like children playing king of the mountain.

She was highly tempted to keep going and leave him and all his goody-goody friends to Grogan's less-than-tender mercies. But with a sigh, she knew she couldn't. If she failed in her mission to eliminate Simmons, only Thunder Mountain with Markus back in charge would be able to topple him. If one person was going to control both Thunder Mountain and Valhalla, it had to be Markus as the lesser of two evils. So she had to go find one of the marines and save them. It was too ironic, really.

But Devon had bid her to be good, hadn't he? It was nice to actually be able to follow his final wish.

She paused above another screen, looking down through the mesh into the corridor below, with a good view of Grogan and two of his men crouching in one of the door alcoves. She raised her hand and pretended to shoot him, smiling. He was one lucky bastard. He was good in bed, but not enough to stop her from killing him, if she had the chance. Valhalla Sector didn't need a Junior Simmons either.

It felt oddly good to wriggle through the narrow corridors. She was pushing her way out of a cocoon, leaving behind the shell of the good-girl Libby for the inner self she kept so carefully hidden. She was too angry to pretend any more.

She heard Jennifer stop crawling, caught by the sight of Grogan below. Libby kept going.

The duct came to an intersection and she chose left. Jennifer didn't follow. Grateful to be free of her shadow, Libby wriggled through the tight turn. Her sweater caught on some protruding edge of the corner and she had to rip herself free, angry at the damage. Time to get out of this coffin and go make Simmons pay for his multitude of sins. At the next screen, she managed to kick it out and lower herself to the floor. Inhaling a deep breath of the open air, she glanced each way down the empty corridor to get her bearings and went off to find some marines.

She didn't see Sergeant Ramirez watching her from the room behind her.


	31. Chapter 31

Sometimes, silence could be the worst possible sound, Daniel realized. He hadn't heard anything from Devon's gun for a little while.

Jack noticed the same thing and shouted out to Gordon, "Company's coming! How's it going?"

Gordon came to the archway. "I put in the crystal. However, the wall is hardened composite and more than one meter thick. It will take several minutes for the crystal to dissolve it sufficiently for passage."

"Would it kill you to say 'concrete'?" Jack muttered irritably. "Daniel, take him," he pointed at Markus, "and get out of sight. We'll hold 'em off as long as we can."

The Tok'ra glanced down the tunnel and back at him, frowning. "When I say come, hurry. I must close the entrance behind us before they get inside, and preferably before they see it."

Jack nodded. "I get it. And if I can't -- " he glanced toward Markus, "remember what I said at Devon's place. Take him and go."

Daniel frowned, but didn't ask what he was talking about, as he took Markus' arm to help him past the showers. There would be time later. There had to be time later.

Halfway down, whatever strength had been keeping Markus going, dwindled and abruptly was gone.

Before Daniel could catch him, Markus stumbled on nothing and careened into the wall. He sagged heavily, head braced against the concrete. For a long moment, he stayed there, panting.

"Markus?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he said breathlessly, trying to convince himself. He touched his pocket, where Daniel had seen him put Devon's letter, and seemed to gain some strength or determination from it. His shoulders hunched and his fists clenched as he pushed himself away from the wall.

Daniel didn't like the suddenly ashen, sweaty look to his face, or his vague gaze, which probably wasn't seeing anything at all. Daniel took Markus' arm across his own shoulders, to keep him up and pointed the right way.

Gordon had put the tunnel in the last shower stall. There was a loud grinding noise and Daniel could feel the vibrations in his feet. He lowered Markus to the ground facing the stall, bare feet stretched out before him.

Fukizaki explained, "The crystals will eat away at the concrete slowly, but once that is finished, the tunnel should grow quickly through the looser dirt and softer rock of the mountain. But this may take several minutes." He looked anxiously where Jack and Charlie had taken positions at the entrance, as if he expected enemies at any moment.

Daniel turned his attention back to Markus, who was staring fixedly in front of him. He roused, blinking, when Gordon knelt and rested his fingers on Markus' forehead for a few seconds, then took hold of his wrist. The Tok'ra clenched his jaw, displeased by the result. "Pulse is fast, and your blood pressure is perceptibly lower. That is an indication of more significant internal hemorrhaging. The onset of shock is very close."

"Well, good thing we're almost out then, isn't it?" Markus asked, with a strange, flippant edge to his voice. "Use your alien gizmo, and presto, good as new."

With unexpected intensity, Fukizaki seized Markus' jaw in his fingers and made him look him in the eyes. "Listen to me, you **must** fight. I can help you, but you have to hold on long enough for me to do so. Do you understand?"

Markus didn't look away or even blink. "You're saying it's going to be close."

"I am saying that even once I use the healing device, it will be up to you whether you live or die."

"It always has been." Markus closed his eyes and repeated faintly, "It always has been."

\---+---

From his position at the corner, tucked behind one of the sinks, Jack could feel the vibrations in the floor, created by the tunneling crystals doing their thing. Of all the things he'd seen, the tunnel crystals still had to rank as one of the most quietly impressive. Not that he'd be telling them that, of course.

Kawalsky was on the opposite side, to watch the door to the hall. He looked as grim as Jack felt. They had a grand total of one MP-5, two sidearms, three clips, and one smoke grenade, between them.

Charlie glanced across at him. "You gonna tell me what the hell's going on?"

"This isn't exactly a good time," Jack said, hoping to evade the question. Not that it was ever a good time to introduce the concept of snakehead aliens.

Charlie cast a disgruntled glare at him and turned to face the outer door again. He muttered, "He's from the future or some damn thing, right? Fifteen years and I never knew him at all."

Jack couldn't help a smile, but said nothing. The future was a good guess.

The klaxon went off, startling them. When it stopped, after only a few seconds, a coldly familiar voice came over the loudspeaker in the corner. "_This is Colonel Simmons_."

Charlie frowned. "How the hell did he get out of the gym?" Jack shushed him to hear the rest.

"_I have the sad duty to announce that President Emerson is dead. He was murdered by traitors in league with the escaped rebel leader Markus Alexander. This group is still at large within the complex and they are armed and extremely dangerous. Therefore Valhalla Sector is in lockdown, beginning now. All non-military personnel are to remain in their quarters. I urge the rebels to surrender -- there is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. It'll be easier on you if you give up now. Simmons out_."

"We can't let him get away with this," Kawalsky said urgently. "If anybody killed Emerson, he did."

"If you've got a plan, be my guest," Jack retorted. Fact was, they were trapped. So far, no one had tried the doors, but it wasn't going to last. Even if Makepeace had managed to put a crimp in Simmons' plans, there were still some soldiers who were going to follow Simmons, because this was Valhalla Sector, and obedience was apparently its highest law.

The good news was that they only needed a little time and they could escape. He glanced back over his shoulder, at Markus, Daniel and the Tok'ra at the far end, and he hoped the Tok'ra could make it happen.

"Here we go," Charlie warned him, and he swung his head back to cover his side, just as Charlie let loose a few rounds at the outer door.

Jack heard the sounds of gunfire and boots coming from the locker room and winced inwardly, knowing that Devon was gone.

Charlie fired again, keeping the door to the hall closed. A moment later, the door from the locker room cracked open an inch and Jack held his fire, hoping he might lure them into coming into view.

The door opened a little wider and Jack noticed the small black periscope slipping through. Jack urged them silently to see nothing and come inside.

He was focusing so intently on the door, that Charlie shooting again barely penetrated his mind.

The scope disappeared and the door opening widened. First a gun came through. Jack waited, his own trained in a two-handed grip. He couldn't waste the shot.

The guy smartly used the door as cover, but Jack was more patient. '_I've been fighting Jaffa, and Supersoldiers and creepy metal bugs, boys, while you've been following orders from a bunch of megalomaniacs and terrorizing kids. Guess who wins_?'

There. Jack fired once. The other guy's finger pulled the trigger as he fell back, spraying bullets all over the damn place. Somebody swore, and the door closed again. Jack could hear some frantic noises, like he'd done some serious damage, and wasn't sorry. They had a little breathing space.

Jack wiped the blood from the side of his face where a bit of ricochet debris had caught his cheek and exchanged a grim glance with Kawalsky. Kawalsky had put his MP-5 on the floor, empty, and had the other sidearm in his hand.

"How many?" Jack asked.

"Five," Charlie answered. Which was two more than Jack had.

They waited for the final rush, with eight bullets between them.

\---+---

Libby walked toward the control center at a fast clip. She'd heard Simmons' on the PA and she knew where he had to be.

A pistol scavenged off a body in the aftermath of a firefight rested comfortably in her waistband, hidden by her sweater.

There were two guards on the door and though they drew on her, they didn't fire. "Libby, what are you doing here?" Greg demanded. He was suspicious, but they let her get close anyway. After all, what threat could flirty Libby offer?

"I'm here to report to the colonel," she told them, in her best 'business' voice, nothing like her usual coquetry.

Greg blinked in surprise at the change. "Report --" he repeated blankly.

She leveled a 'are you stupid?' look at him. "Do you seriously believe I spent all that time with Devon because I wanted to?" she demanded. "I report to Colonel Simmons, just like you. So either let me in or tell me where he is."

"He's inside," Hauser, next to Greg, admitted. Hauser had never let her flirt with him, but he seemed to believe her more than Greg. So she focused her attention on him.

"Good. Then will you let me in? I have news for him." She smiled a little, coldly. "He'll enjoy it a lot, I think."

"All right. We need some good news." Hauser opened the door, and called inside. "Sir? Liberty Kaufman is here, alone. She says she has news for you."

Simmons sounded only a little surprised. "Let her in."

She entered, pasting a smile on her face. "Colonel." The door closed behind her, cutting the other guards out of the equation for the moment. Her gaze quickly swept the room. That left Simmons himself and two men seated at the consoles. She saw no weapons, but the two probably had guns somewhere. She'd have to be fast.

"Libby?" Simmons lifted his brows at her. "News for me? I presume you're here to cut some sort of deal."

"Devon's dead," she told him bluntly, ignoring the flare of pain that speaking the words caused. "Markus isn't going to make it out of the base alive. So, I thought I should cast my lot with the winner," she declared, looking into his face with a bit of a smirk.

He approached. "I wondered about you," he admitted. "There always seemed to be something hidden..." He touched her hair, pulling on one of her curls lightly.

With his body blocking the other soldier's view of her front, she pulled the gun slowly from beneath her sweater, not taking her eyes from the predator in front of her. "Devon was nice to me, sure," she said with a shrug, "but he was also an assignment." It felt strange to speak the truth to Simmons, but then, it wasn't as if he was going to be able to tell anyone.

She pushed the gun into his side, rejoicing when his eyes widened. "Some people should rule the world, Simmons. You aren't one of them."

She pulled the trigger and he staggered, the look on his face pure shock. Pushing him back with her free hand to clear some space, she raised the gun and shot the two soldiers who were only starting to rise. They fell back in their chairs.

She was pleased that her hand had stayed steady. Simmons was on the floor, and she spared him a glance. He was still alive, but not for long. On his face was the most delicious expression of betrayal, and she had to smile. "I hope you rot in hell."

The door started to open and she whirled, firing before it had opened all the way. Greg and Hauser fell, and she felt a small twinge of remorse before she pushed it away. She had to get clear of here. It was time to go home.

The corridor was empty for a moment when she stepped out, but then John came around the corner. They both froze, staring at each other, and he blurted, "I heard -- "

She raised her gun and fired, but missed as he ducked back. Damn it. She pulled the trigger again, and it clicked on an empty clip. Fuck.

She took off at a run down the corridor, wishing she'd grabbed another gun.

John raced after her.

\---+---

Markus knew he'd lost the thread of what was happening. But he didn't care.

The crunching sounds of the tunnel forming became a soothing background hum then faded away. He was drifting in someplace dark, without pain. There was a light off in the distance, but it was too much effort to go anywhere. So he didn't try, floating in the nothingness. Soon, he knew, he could sleep.

A gentle hand touched his face. He recognized the touch and her voice. "Markus? Sweetie, you have to wake up."

"Mom?" She was there, the same gold-streaked hair and soft blue eyes as the day he'd watched her die. She seemed to be shimmering in the darkness, but she looked real. But she couldn't be real, because she was dead. But then, maybe so was he. "Mom? Are you here?"

"Markus, you have to wake up," she repeated.

He shook his head. He didn't want to go back. It was better here, with her, where he didn't hurt anymore. "I'm so tired… I want to be with you."

Her hands framed his face, and her fingers seemed to be trembling against his skin. Her eyes were wet. "Oh, I love you, Markus," she whispered. "I know you've missed me, but I'm watching over you, my son. Always. Never doubt that. But this is not the time for you to join me. There's so much more for you to do, and to be."

"But, Mom…" he protested, not really knowing what he was protesting, except that she seemed farther away, even though she was still right there.

"There's a reason you're here. You're our second chance; our hope to make it right. I know it's hard, darling; I know you feel alone. But you can do it. You have the gifts and the heart. It's so much like your father's." Smiling gently, she laid one hand on his chest and for just one instant, it was as if she was truly there. Her touch was warm and reassuring, as it had always been, chasing away the nightmares and pain. He didn't want her to ever go away.

She glanced back over her shoulder, but at nothing he could see in the dark, and bit her lip, suddenly looking scared. He couldn't remember her looking that way before. "You have to go back. Please, son," she begged. "If you don't wake up, it's going to be too late. Someday we'll be together again, I promise. Hold onto that, and open your eyes."

Wanting to ease her fears, he opened his eyes. The darkness pulled back, still hovering at the edges of his vision, and he fell back into his body. There was pain again, flames licking the inside of his chest, so he could barely draw in air.

But worse, she was gone.

Turning his head slightly, he tried to look for her. Daniel was right next to him. But there was another… Gordon. The Tok'ra. Malek.

Malek was standing in front of him, watching the hole open up across the way. Markus couldn't see the hole itself, but he could see the swirling, glowing cobalt light.

It was hard to look away. But he knew he'd seen something. Something wrong.

There. Above Gordon. There was a hole in the ceiling. There had been a screen across it before. Markus wanted to warn him, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He drew in another breath to try again, as the shape of someone familiar filled the hole.

One of Simmons' men. The sergeant who had helped Simmons hurt him. Ramirez. That was his name. He had a gun.

"Gordon -- " Markus tried to yell, but it barely came out as a choked whisper, caught in the middle of his chest.

Markus himself couldn't even hear it, since the Tok'ra took a step forward and turned the wrong way, shouting, "O'Neill! Kawalsky! Come! We're through!"

Ramirez had a smile on his face as he fired. Markus saw the recoil of the weapon jerk his arms a little, and a tiny puff of smoke from the barrel of the gun.

Gordon staggered and fell to his knees, catching himself on his hands. His face bore a terrible look of surprise and horror. His eyes flared with golden light, and he fell prone to the ground, in front of Markus.

There was a spreading red stain on his white coat, right in the middle of his back.

Markus knew he had to do something. He had to stop the bleeding, he had to keep him from dying. He pushed himself from the wall, half-falling, half-crawling, to Gordon's side. The world swayed sickeningly and threatened to go dark again, as he put his bare hands over the wound.

Blood was sticky against his fingers as he tried to push it back in. Gordon couldn't die. Not another person dying for him.

The voice was hoarse, and not quite familiar, rising up from the body beneath him. "Markus …" beneath his hands, the body shuddered convulsively and coughed. Markus leaned closer to hear. "… take Malek… both die alone… together, live… "

The suggestion, from what sounded like the host, ran through Markus like an electric shock, tingling all the way to the tips of his fingers.

Take Malek? Become his host? Could he? **Should** he?

But hadn't he done it already? A different him and a different Malek, but they couldn't be all that different either.

Was this why his mother wanted him to go back? Was this his destiny?

\---+---

Daniel barely had time for cold horror to shudder through him at the sight -- there was a man above them. The man fired his gun, at the same moment that Jack fired his.

But the same moment was too late. Gordon was hit in the back and fell, while the other guy was hit too. His body made a slow slide out of the duct and fell with a wet thud to the floor. At least they wouldn't have to worry about him getting up again.

Good thing too, since Markus lurched forward to help Gordon, even though it looked like he needed help at least as much. He put his hands on the wound, and then he collapsed.

Daniel crawled to them, horrified.

Jack covered them, keeping his weapon trained on the body for a moment. "Ramirez," he snarled in disgust. "Should've shot him in the elevator."

"Markus and the doc?" Kawalsky called anxiously, glancing toward them before returning his gaze toward the washroom.

Daniel shook his head, unable to speak.

"Looks bad," Jack answered for him. "Damn it! At least the tunnel's done, right, Daniel?"

Daniel rose up on his knees and peered around the corner into the stall. He saw a wide opening and the softly glowing crystal tunnel leading into the distance.

"It's done," he called, but when he turned, he saw that Jack was looking the other way, frowning in concentration.

Daniel tried to listen, but couldn't hear anything softer than the ringing in his ears from the gunfire. He didn't bother wondering too long either, worried about Markus and Gordon. They both still had a pulse, even though it was hard to find on both of them.

"Jack --" he started, but Jack held up his left hand for silence.

"Makepeace," Kawalsky said, and Jack nodded agreement.

Daniel listened again, and this time he could hear the sound of a distant battle.

Jack turned to face Kawalsky. "If Grogan wins, we've got a problem. We gotta go. You coming?"

Kawalsky froze, and Daniel could see the conflict in his eyes as he glanced from Markus and Gordon back to Jack. "You gonna take care of them?" he asked.

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"Then I'll wait. You're not a bad guy, for an O'Neill."

Jack shook his head, in rueful amusement. "Every single Kawalsky I've ever met has been exactly the same." Only Daniel, and maybe Kawalsky, could see the desire in Jack's gaze to say how much he'd missed his friend and how much he would miss him again. He handed his gun to Kawalsky.

"I'll watch your back," Kawalsky promised as he took it. "And tell Markus when Makepeace and I finish cleaning up this place, we follow him."

"No problem. Good luck." Then he turned and raced down the hall. "Daniel, you grab Markus. I'll get the doc. Into the tunnel."

Daniel bent and put his arms around Markus' upper chest, lifting him up and then gracelessly dragging him into the shower stall. He staggered backward into the mouth of the tunnel and as many steps as he could before tripping or dropping his awkward burden.

Jack followed, dragging Gordon by the wrists. "We better close it," he grunted, laying Gordon down some ten steps inside and kneeling beside him, patting down his clothes. "Come on, come on," he muttered. "Where'd you put 'em, snakehead?"

Finally with a crow of triumph he pulled two crystals out from under the Tok'ra's body and held them up. "Which one?"

Daniel shrugged. He'd never bothered to study the different Tok'ra crystal configurations. It was more Sam's thing, than his. "I don't know."

"Well, the last time I collapsed a tunnel, I had a P90 and Teal'c's staff weapon," Jack grumbled. He looked at the two crystals in his hand and frowned. "Y'know, I think I remember Elliot said the diamond one angles up to the surface. That means this other short one should close it."

Daniel winced. "You don't sound very sure."

"It was two years ago, Daniel, gimme a break!" Jack was never one to agonize over his decisions very long, and he didn't this time either. Instead he whirled around and plunged one of the crystals into a crack in the wall.

Daniel held his breath as he waited to see if Jack had chosen correctly.

A spark formed within the wall crystals, quickly traveling across the ceiling and down to the floor, until the two ends met and there was a circular ribbon of light glimmering in the crystals. It pulsed once, twice, and then it seemed the circle was spreading inward, filling the empty space with shimmering light. And like the speeded-up image of a snowflake forming, slender rods grew across that surface, spreading haphazardly but filling in the space quickly.

Jack returned to Gordon's side, poised to start dragging him backward, if the crystals didn't stop.

But they did. The glow faded, and there was just a jumbled mass of gray, smooth crystal rock facets, entirely blocking the entrance.

They were safe, Daniel thought and let out a long silent breath of relief. But his gaze fell on the two lying on the floor, and amended to himself: at least he and Jack were safe.

Daniel knelt down. "Markus?" Markus was on his stomach, and now that the tunnel was complete and it was quiet, he could hear Markus' labored breathing. As gently as he could, Daniel turned him over to his back. He caught his lip between his teeth in dismay.

Markus was translucently pale, bluish veins shadowy under the skin of his face and neck. Breathing through his mouth, he was panting shallowly. His eyes were partially open, but glassy, staring at nothing.

Remembering what Janet had taught him about first aid, Daniel gently pressed a finger against the back of Markus' hand. The skin was cool, and the white mark left by his finger stayed there.

Swallowing hard, he lifted his gaze to Jack. "He's in shock. If he doesn't get better really soon…" his voice trailed off, not wanting to voice the thought. It seemed so horribly unfair that Markus had come all this way, suffered so much, only to die anyway.

Jack nodded sadly. He had his hand around Gordon's wrist, checking his pulse. "We're gonna be short a Tok'ra real soon, too. Damn it," he added wearily. "He said -- I was supposed -- I had to -- " He cut himself off, glanced at Markus then back at Gordon. He shut his eyes, a look of utter abhorrence passing across his face. But it was with determination that he opened his eyes again and said to Daniel, "Ask him."

Daniel stared at him. Was Jack -- **Jack** of all people -- seriously considering giving Markus a Tok'ra symbiote?

"Ask him!" Jack repeated harshly. "I'm not doing this unless he agrees. God, I don't know why I'm even **considering** this," he added, to himself, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

"The bullet didn't hit the symbiote?" Daniel asked in confirmation.

Jack looked down, judged Gordon's spine and the injury, and shook his head. "Maybe a little, but I don't think so." He clenched his fists and drummed his legs in frustration. "Damn it, Daniel, just do it. He can't die."

Daniel squeezed Markus' shoulder, shaking him a little. "Markus, it's Daniel, I need you to listen to me. The Tok'ra --"

Interrupting, Markus croaked something, coughed, and tried again. "Yes," he whispered. He blinked and turned his gaze toward Daniel. He was, if not alert, at least aware. He understood what Daniel wanted to know.

"Are you sure?" Daniel asked, taking his hand. Markus squeezed weakly back. Daniel hated even asking. But instead of pointing out the obvious fact that he was going to die if he didn't, Markus whispered something else, before his eyes closed.

"What'd he say?" Jack asked.

Daniel stood to pull Markus gently beside Gordon, turning his head so it was facing the Tok'ra's from only a few inches away. "I think he said, "fate."" He reached across and tapped the back of Gordon's neck once, feeling the answering ripple beneath the skin. He raised his voice, so it echoed in the tunnel, "Markus said yes. But you need to hurry."

Gordon's -- no, Daniel remembered, the host's name was actually Chuan -- Chuan's head moved a little, on the smooth stone floor, and his jaw opened. A small, pale and glistening symbiote emerged from the open mouth. Daniel watched in fascination. It wasn't the full Goa'uld Daniel was used to seeing, but rather as if the symbiote had molted, leaving only stubs of fins and the barest hint of a spinal ridge. It was only about as long as his hand and had no tail. But the head was the same, with long bifurcated jaws that nudged their way gently into Markus' mouth.

Jack made a gagging sound, drawing Daniel's attention. Jack was now looking determinedly away, a hand over his mouth. When he noticed Daniel's regard, Jack looked back bleakly. "How can I do this to him? How could I even **suggest** putting a snake in his head?"

"Jack -- " Daniel started, with a sigh, but didn't get very far.

"I know, I know, otherwise he'd die," Jack shook his head, impatiently, not really seeking an answer. "And we can't let that happen. I know. I just -- I'm not really sure this is better, Daniel." But before Daniel could say anything, Jack shook his head, trying to clear out the dark thoughts. "Wait a second. He said "fate"? How did he know about Smith?"

Daniel frowned, wondering who Jack was talking about. "Smith? Who's that?"

Jack waved the question to the side. "Never mind. So what did he mean? Markus was a Tok'ra in our reality, so he thought he had to be one here?"

"No, not just any Tok'ra. You never asked Gordon his name, did you? His Tok'ra name, I mean. Jack, that's Malek," he pointed a finger toward Markus' head. "He was stunned, we both were, to find out that it's been Malek here all along."

"No kidding, it's Malek?" Jack darted a glance at Markus, and seeing that the symbiote was out of sight and all seemed quiet, continued to watch him. "Huh. That's weird." Then he shrugged a little, shifting to sit cross-legged on the floor. "Do you have any idea how long this is gonna take?"

Daniel shook his head. "It took Selmak, what, an hour or two to heal Jacob enough to be moved? We could be in for a long wait." Actually it could be forever, Daniel realized. If Markus was too weak, the blending would fail and both would die anyway.

"Then we wait," Jack agreed. He carefully slid the last crystal into the highest pouch in his vest and zipped it shut. "I hope Kawalsky's okay. I hate leaving him out there." He glanced at the crystal wall, no doubt wishing he could see through it and learn the results of the fight.

"I'm sure Makepeace made it through. After all, some of his people must have come help us, or Simmons couldn't have left the gym," Daniel pointed out.

"Yeah, I hope so." He grimaced and let out a small sigh, tapping his knees with his hands. "So, let's hear it. What happened in the past week?"

"Let's see… I was captured, imprisoned, and I watched a friend get tortured," Daniel answered shortly.

Jack nodded sagely. "Ah. The usual then?"

Daniel had to smile. "Pretty much. What about your mission to Seth?"

Jack snorted. "Came out with less than we went in with. No naquadah, no nothing. Carter managed to stab him, but I'm sure he's fine by now. He's building an army the old fashioned way: one child at a time." He made a disgusted face and shuddered. "It was probably a good thing you guys got captured in a way, cuz I think she got out of there in the nick of time. We'd better warn our friend Malek so he can call in his little snakey pals to take out the Goa'uld. I don't know if Thunder Mountain's up to the task."

"Markus will know," Daniel reminded him. Whatever Markus knew, Malek was going to find out, and vice versa. Between the two of them they would know exactly Thunder Mountain's capabilities against Seth.

"Oh, right." Jack fell silent for maybe thirty seconds then shifted impatiently. "Come on, Daniel. Unless you've got a deck of cards on you, you might as well talk. Tell me about the meeting and what happened after that."

Daniel gave in. At least it would make the time go by faster.

"It was snowing when we reached St. Louis…"

\---+---

Malek moved gently to establish the connections to Markus' brain stem, to tap into his autonomic functions and get a general reading of his physical condition. As he expected it was not good.

His blood pressure was dangerously low, risking organ failure and brain damage. Malek turned first to cutting off the blood to the lacerated spleen, to halt the internal bleeding. He then sent out epinephrine to constrict the blood vessels and increase blood pressure. Unfortunately Malek could not increase the fluid balance without taking in more water, but that was abruptly the least of his worries as he realized that his oxygen supply was dwindling. The blood in Markus' throat, from Malek's own entrance, was blocking the airway. Malek had to force a cough to clear it, causing more trauma to the broken ribs and lung and nearly rupturing the splenic vein.

It was a delicate process to keep everything in some sort of balance, and at first it felt like Malek had to rush from crisis to crisis, bringing blood here, boosting glucose there, while something else threatened permanent damage. He didn't have time to start on the broken ribs, nascent lung infection, or the numerous contusions. But eventually Markus was stabilized and all Malek could do was let the process of healing progress at its own pace.

In all that time, Malek had sensed nothing from Markus' thoughts. His host was deeply unconscious, finally overwhelmed by all that had happened. Malek tentatively extended a tendril to tap into Markus' upper mind, hoping he might rouse Markus and begin the process of true blending.

The door figuratively opened to allow Malek access, and the symbiote paused on the threshold, awed by what he found.

Never, in twenty-seven hosts had he found anything like this on blending. Humans were chaotic, and their minds scarcely less so. But not this one.

The lattice stretched into eternity, a mental structure of such delicate perfection it made Malek wish he could weep. It was a mental construct of a near-infinite number of branches, arches, and crystal rods, each connection precise and fluid, allowing for nearly instant, complete recall. Yet, because Markus was unconscious, the crystals were dark, and there was a general sense of decay and damage. Some crystals were cracked or clouded, and the connections thinned to a mere thread.

Malek knew it was all only a few steps from total collapse. Once shattered, it might never be rebuilt. So Malek had to weave himself into the in-between spaces, careful not to change or move anything. A blundering symbiote might do what Simmons had not, if he weren't careful.

Still, he had to touch it, and just brushing it sent small vibrations through it, like an insect landing in a spider's web. Energy pulsed through the lattice at each touch, as Markus stirred.

Then, with shocking abruptness, the entire lattice blazed with light that seemed to rush forward, engulfing Malek, and pulling him deep in the center where the light was brightest. The images of memory and thought swirled around him, a quick sharing that gave him the taste of who Markus was. There was fear, too, recognizing the new presence where there should have been no one.

Malek sent comfort and support to him, trying to soothe the understandable concern. '_I am Malek, Markus. Everything is well. I have started the healing process and you grow stronger moment by moment. Please, just stay calm while we blend_.'

'_What should I do_?' Markus asked. Although his mental 'voice' was tentative, Malek rejoiced in the clarity and strength of it. His body might still be weak, but his mind was not.

_'Nothing, my most brave host_,' Malek returned with gentle affection. '_If you are ready, I share myself in return. I must warn you, there is much in my memories that may be … difficult. But there will be time to learn and understand later_.

Markus steeled himself and a sense of assent passed between them. The Tok'ra added another connection back to himself and opened it. Markus accepted the offer, and let the images and feelings flow into him. The Tok'ra felt him waver under the onslaught, staggered by the deep sharing, but before he could do anything, Markus reached for more.

Grief for Chuan. Two thousand years of war and suffering. So much darkness, it was nearly overwhelming. But Markus wouldn't stop there with only the evils of the past. He also found the small moments of hope and the comfort of very old friends that sustained the Tok'ra in their long struggle. He paused when he found new science and then was amused at himself, '_I suppose this is one of those things to learn about later_.'

'_Yes. Please do not try to understand hyperspace physics right now_,' Malek asked, teasing only a little. He could feel Markus' desire to learn all about it like a physical hunger. '_Though I don't doubt you can, we are in some need of water and food so I can finish healing you_.'

Markus decided that meant he needed to wake up and he opened his eyes.

\---+---

Kawalsky paced behind Makepeace, Jennifer at his side. He glanced at her, a little concerned. When Charlie had ventured out of the restroom, he'd found Grogan and all of his men dead on the floor. Jennifer had been staring down at her husband, with no expression on her face: no relief, no anger, no grief. Not even surprise. That same frozen look was on her face still. The only emotion she'd shown was when she'd demanded to go with them.

Along with the rest of Makepeace's men, plus the very helpful Kenny and Richard, they'd fought their way finally to the command and control area of level three and they were on their way to the communications room.

There were two bodies in the doorway. Simmons' men, Kawalsky saw, and he exchanged a puzzled glance with Makepeace at the sight. It hadn't been one of them.

Makepeace nodded permission to his men, who pulled the bodies out of the way and filtered in cautiously. Their weapons were ready, but there was no response. Kawalsky saw the lead sergeant's face when he turned around. Something was wrong.

"Sir?" the sergeant called. "We're clear. But you should see this."

Makepeace entered, and Kawalsky was on his heels. There were two men sprawled in their chairs at the console. They had both been shot in the head. But more surprisingly, Simmons was also there, on the floor. He'd been shot in the chest, at close range, and died before he'd even bled all that much.

But who had done it? Had one of his own men turned on him?

Finally Makepeace shrugged. "Maybe we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, Kawalsky. You should use the comm and tell everyone to stand down."

"Me? But you -- "

Makepeace gave a sour look. "Everyone knows my grievances, Charlie. And I don't want it to look like I'm making some sort of play. This isn't -- it's never been about me. I don't want it to b become /b about me either."

Charlie nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of responsibility. "All right."

He grabbed the mike for the public address system and turned it on. Clearing his throat, he started, "Attention, all personnel." He hesitated, wondering how to put it. "This is Major Charles Kawalsky. All military personnel are ordered to stand down immediately. It's over. Colonel Simmons is dead, and his attempted coup is finished. Enough blood has been shed for his ambitions -- it stops now. The fear stops now. Valhalla Sector will return to the rule of law it should have been all along, not the rule of terror."

He paused and added with a slight smile, "There's a whole new world out there. Waverly and Simmons wanted to dominate it, wanted to control it. But that's not the way. We have to be part of it, or it's going to pass us by. Which is why, starting now, Valhalla Sector will dedicate itself to the mission of restoring civilization -- not at the point of a gun, but with knowledge. And most of all, we will be allies with Markus Alexander and Thunder Mountain, and give them our help in the effort to reunify this country, not tear it apart with still more bloodshed and war. Anyone who disagrees with this program is free to leave once the lockdown ends at 1700 hours today. But I urge everyone to think very carefully about the future and what you want it to look like, and what you want your part in it to be. Kawalsky out."

He set the mike down on the blood-spattered console and felt Jennifer grip his arm. He turned his head to see her almost smiling. "You did good," she declared with a nod.

Letting out a sigh, he shrugged and patted her hand. "We'll see. It ain't over yet."

Makepeace spoke up, adding the words that made Kawalsky think maybe he hadn't been quite so stupidly glib as he'd thought. "It's a start. What are your orders, Major?"

Kawalsky wasn't the only one who looked at him at the question. Hadn't they all been following **him**? Makepeace gave a half-smile but said nothing, waiting.

"Thanks a lot," Charlie muttered and took a deep breath. He knew what to do. Because one thing they all knew was true -- they needed the whole base in friendly hands **before** Waverly got wind of what happened and returned, or the coup was going to come crashing down around their ears.

"All right," he began. "First thing, we need external communications. Either we find somebody alive who's got the release code or someone's gonna have to hack it. Next…"

As he issued the orders, he hoped that his friends were safe and well, and that soon he'd be able to help them.

\---+---

Daniel leaned against a smooth part of the crystal-dug wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. They'd both gone through the highlights of their adventures, and Daniel had wiped the blood off Markus' hands as best he could. Now Jack was holding forth on Waverly and Simmons.

"Oh, yeah," Jack agreed. "Simmons is bad, don't get me wrong. But I b expected /b that. I mean, we knew him and he was a sleaze then, and he's a sleaze here. No big shock. But Waverly… worse, no question."

Before Daniel could reply, they both stopped, as Markus moved his head and his hands closed and opened again on the smooth floor. He seemed to be waking up.

Daniel was surprised. It had been barely an hour since the blending, and he'd have thought there was more for Malek to heal. It had been only twenty minutes since his breathing had eased from the rapid panting. But his eyes flicked open, and Daniel realized he was awake.

Shifting forward on his knees, Daniel smiled at him. "Markus? Malek? How are you doing? How do you feel?"

He could tell from the somewhat shell-shocked look on his face, that it was Markus who gave a bit of a wry smile. "This is very strange," he murmured. "I know I **ought** to hurt, but I don't. And I know a whole lot of things I shouldn't. It's very odd."

Markus' gaze drifted sideways as if he was physically hearing someone else talk to him. "Malek says," he said, hoarsely, with a tiny frown, acknowledging that this too was very strange, "we need water. Food, too, but especially water, to finish. Do either of you have any?"

Daniel shook his head and looked hopefully at Jack, who also shook his head decisively negative. "Sorry," he said. "We never got to that part of gearing up. But Teal'c has some. I figure we'll go as far down the tunnel as we can, up to the surface, call Teal'c and get him to come pick us up in the chopper. Can you walk?"

Markus nodded once and held out a hand for Daniel to help him sit up. Despite what he said about not hurting, Daniel noticed his breath caught at the movement. The ribs were one of the things Malek had clearly not finished healing.

He froze when he saw Chuan's body on the floor next to him and put out a hand to touch him gently, bowing his head in evident grief. Then he did something very strange, he reached for something around Chuan's neck. When he drew his hand away, Daniel could see he held some sort of silver pendant or locket, which Markus put around his own neck and tucked it under his jacket.

He didn't explain either, just climbed to his feet. Daniel was relieved to see he stood on his own without wobbling. He padded silently to the side of the tunnel to run his fingers across the dark gray crystalline surface with slow wonder. "I know how this works," he murmured. "I know what crystals catalyze which reaction. I think I can even make more. It's not my life or my knowledge. But I know it." He stepped away, shaking his head ruefully. "Well, nobody's getting better hanging around here. We should go."

Daniel followed him closely, just in case, while Jack led the way. As they walked down the apparently endless, straight tunnel, Daniel asked curiously, "So, what are you going to tell the people in Thunder Mountain about Malek?"

"Nothing," Markus answered promptly. "And you can't either."

Jack looked back over his shoulder, with a skeptical look. "And how you gonna explain your miraculous recovery from the almost dead?"

"As long as you don't tell anyone, they won't know I was hurt at all, will they?" Markus countered.

Jack grunted a laugh. "No offense, but you still look like crap. They'll know b something /b happened."

"But not so bad as it was," Markus said. "They can't know about him. They're not ready."

"And Malek understands that he's going to have to be hidden?" Daniel asked, dubiously. "I mean, those people know you very well, Markus. Even if he takes your voice, they'll know something's … different."

Markus' head dipped and Daniel was not entirely surprised when the symbiote said, with the Goa'uld timbre, "I am aware of that, Daniel. But, at present, we have no choice. Markus is needed here."

"You could take another host," Jack suggested.

"Are you offering, Jack?" Malek asked, with a knowing smile.

"God no!" Jack exclaimed, sounding completely repulsed by the very idea. Daniel had to laugh. Typical Jack equal-opportunity-offender.

"Good," Malek replied with perfect composure. "I like where I am. But I must give control back to Markus -- he is not yet as well as he would like you to believe. If you would, Daniel, lend us your shoulder for balance."

Startled, Daniel said, "Sure," just as Malek's hand gripped his shoulder.

After a brief pause, Markus said, in an odd tone, "Did that sound as strange to you as it did to me?"

"Well, no, actually," Jack answered lightly. "I've heard you talk like that before. Well, not **you** you, but you. So, not strange at all."

Trying to be more reassuring, Daniel answered Markus' real question, "The symbiotes do that so we -- everyone else -- knows who's speaking. It takes a little getting used to."

"Yeah, I guess it does," Markus said and fell quiet. Daniel let him be, figuring he had enough on his plate without trying to keep up his end of idle chit-chat.

The three -- no, the four -- of them continued down the long tunnel. Whether Markus was talking with Malek or not, Daniel couldn't tell, but he certainly wasn't talking aloud. He also leaned more heavily on Daniel, exhausted or weakening beyond even Malek's ability to help. Jack glanced back occasionally, and his gaze met Daniel's.

"We're about a mile away," Jack said finally and stopped. "I think it's far enough. Let's go top side and see what's going on. I could use a drink myself. I'm thinking Heineken Dark." That was followed by a dreamy sigh. "With nachos and the Avalanche versus the Red Wings."

Markus smiled tiredly. "Beer we have at home. Nachos we can make, sort of. I'll assume the rest are sports teams of some kind which we don't have. Sorry."

"'Some kind'?" Jack repeated, sounding highly offended, and shook his head at Markus in mock despair. "Sorry, forgot who I was talking to. Physics geeks. I swear, just **once**, I'm going to find one who plays sports. And no, Daniel, Carter playing pool doesn't count."

Daniel, who hadn't been going to say anything of the kind, made a face at Jack.

"My dad taught me golf and to throw baseballs," Markus protested, a wistful look on his face. "He wanted to make sure I didn't spend all my time indoors. Which is pretty ironic, when you think about it."

Daniel thought fifteen years spent in a big hole in the ground went way past irony.

Jack broke the sudden silence a little too brightly, "Hey, I play golf. We should go play some holes when we get back."

"We'd have to cut our own fairways with a machete," Markus reminded him. He glanced at the near wall and his free hand lightly traced the protruding crystals. "But right now, I'm sick of being underground. Let's go find the sun."

Jack seized eagerly on the suggestion to put the crystal in, with Markus giving Jack advice on its placement.

Daniel helped Markus up the new tunnel. The fresh air coming toward them was invigorating, and when Daniel stepped onto the forest floor again, he had to stand there for a moment, breathing in freedom.

Nearby, Markus moved into a patch of sunlight between the pine trees and closed his eyes, like a lizard sunning on a rock. But a little while later he twitched and his eyes popped open. He fished the necklace out and did something to the pendant so it opened. He took something out of it and raised it up, and the symbiote spoke, "Malek."

An unfamiliar female voice came from the small device. "Finally! There you are. We were concerned. Is all well?"

Jack turned and stared at the Tok'ra in accusation. But Malek ignored him.

"Much has happened," he answered briefly. "As I am speaking to you, I presume the Millhaven operation was successful?"

"Oh yes. The Thunder Mountain force came four, almost five hours, ago," she said. "There was a minimum of casualties on all sides. But, Malek, are you sure you're well? You sound odd."

"Chuan is dead," he said. "My new host is Markus Alexander."

"Oh," she said and there was a long pause. When she spoke again, it was with a Goa'uld timbre, telling the listeners that she was, in fact, Tok'ra. "Are you sure that is entirely wise, my friend? What will the Council say?"

"They may say what they wish," he made a slashing gesture with his free hand. "It changes nothing. My mission continues, Jolinar. I will not abandon it, no matter what the Council says. But I have a task for you. In order to reopen the chappa'ai, we require naquadah. Samantha Carter, one of the visitors, has learned of a new efficient design for a naquadah generator which she has offered to share. But it requires a large quantity."

"How much?" she asked.

Daniel was taken back by the mention of Jolinar, and wondered if Sam knew or how she would feel about it once she found out. Then he found Malek's gaze on him. "Do either of you know how much?"

Daniel searched back in his mind to when Sam had talked about it. "Uh, yeah. Sam said, ideally, twelve grams of high-state refined naquadah," he repeated, hoping he was remembering correctly.

Malek repeated it for Jolinar, and instructed, "When you have it, contact me and we will arrange for you to enter Thunder Mountain without revealing yourselves. What has happened must remain secret."

Jolinar answered, her tone not as certain as his, "As you wish. We will have to return to Revanna for that much. That will engender questions and orders," she warned.

"I know," he smiled wryly. "I have faith in your ingenuity."

She made some sort of dismissive sound and signed off. As Malek put the communications device back under his jacket, Daniel waited for Jack's explosion. Instead, he just let out a deep sigh and muttered something about 'damn secretive Tok'ra.'

Malek did not look apologetic, and after a moment, Jack shook his head and announced, "Never mind. We're going to have to hike a little ways to find a clearing for the chopper."

Daniel glanced down at where Markus was standing on the carpet of pine needles and realized his hiking barefoot in the forest would be uncomfortable at best, and dangerous at worst if Markus cut his foot open. So Daniel offered his boots, which Markus refused. Daniel knew perfectly well it was just Markus' pride rearing up again, and insisted. After some 'discussion', Jack grew fed up with them both and ordered Markus to take Daniel's socks.

Daniel shook his head at the stubbornness, but handed over his socks. Markus wrinkled his nose, but took them.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Jack demanded in aggravation. "Now, if you kids are done, I'm gonna call Teal'c."

Daniel laughed out loud when Markus stuck his tongue out at Jack's back.


	32. Chapter 32

The early morning sun warmed Teal'c's head as he sat cross-legged against a tree trunk. Lee Chen had finally decided pacing was not a good use of his time. While the younger man wasn't relaxed, he had managed to sit and start cleaning his gun. It was an exercise O'Neill often partook of in stressful situations and Teal'c felt almost comforted by his actions. Now that he was more knowledgeable about Tau'ri actions, he understood that if they kept their hands and minds busy, the time passed for them more quickly. For him, time was a constant, no matter what his occupation.

"Can I ask you something?" Lee looked enquiringly up at him, pausing in his motions.

"Yes," Teal'c answered.

"You were positive that Major O'Neill would become loyal to Thunder Mountain. How did you know? Because of the O'Neill from your world?"

"In part. Why do you ask? Are you unsure of the major?"

"No." The other man hesitated for a few moments, before blurting out, "I was wondering what you thought about me? Do you believe I'm loyal to Markus?"

Teal'c could see through the younger man's insecurities. Lee Chen could not help that he had been brought to Valhalla Sector as a child. Indoctrination at a young age was common practice in a variety of cultures including the Jaffa. It took time and the ability to see a better way before one could make a change. "Yes, I believe you are loyal to Markus, but I see a small amount of hatred for Valhalla, also. Did they mistreat you?"

Lee finished wiping down the barrel, shaking his head. "No, not really. But I resent what they made me believe in. Without Devon I wouldn't have known there was anything else at all. Even so, I spent most of my life pretending, and when I finally found something to really believe in, I still had to pretend, knowing that if who I really was got out, it would all fall down around me."

"And you believe the day to be here."

Lee looked down, picked up the clip and put it back in the gun with a decisive snap. But his voice when he spoke was resigned and sad. "Markus will never trust me again. He'll probably let me stay in the Mountain, because he's like that. But nothing like what I used to have. I mean, I know I don't deserve my old job back. I just wish… " he trailed off and gave a little shrug and sigh.

Teal'c watched Lee for a moment. "You are right, you were pretending. Markus Alexander never knew you. There is an opportunity for you to be yourself when he returns. One, you are extremely loyal. He will come to realize this. Two, you try very hard to be strong and self-assured. But you are not. Let Markus see this as well. When he realizes he has come to know the man, he will value your friendship."

Teal'c waited to see how his companion would receive his words of advice, when a large rumbling noise interrupted their solitude. A fleet of helicopters was flying to the north of them heading in a westerly direction.

"Thunder Mountain must be attacking Millhaven now and this is Waverly's counter," Lee explained, "The lead chopper will have Colonel West and his 2IC. West commands any major offensive and he reports only to General Waverly. And see that dark one behind the main group?" Lee pointed. "Waverly's in that one."

Teal'c watched the formation pass out of sight. "Why would General Waverly travel to Millhaven? Does he trust his ground commander so little?" But Teal'c was not surprised -- it was a frequent failing of the Goa'uld that they had to direct battles in person. Few Goa'uld were the tactical geniuses they believed themselves to be.

Lee snorted. "Waverly's a control freak. But I think he'd only go if he thought there was a chance to take down Thunder Mountain. _**That**_ he'd want to watch himself." He frowned in worry, still looking westward. "I don't know how, though, with Colorado so far away. All our people will be back in the barn long before this group gets even close."

Teal'c could offer no explanation.

Less than an hour later his radio buzzed, and he heard a voice, "_Eagle's nest to carrier pigeon_."

He recognized Erin Gant's voice. Teal'c picked up the radio and activated it. "Carrier pigeon here, Eagle's nest. Go ahead."

"_I wanted to let you two know -- the prisoners have been rescued and are all out of Millhaven on their way back. Only a few people were hurt, and no one was killed_," she said with great relief in her voice.

"That is good to know. Be aware that nine military helicopters left this location, heading westward, less than one hour past," Teal'c reported. "Lee Chen believes General Waverly to be commanding the force personally."

She hesitated a moment and replied, "_We'll keep that in mind. Have you heard from the others_?"

"Not yet. I will contact you when it occurs." Teal'c signed off.

"Now we wait, huh?" Lee asked, not expecting an answer. "All we've done is wait."

"Be calm, Lee Chen. I believe the waiting is about over."

"And Markus will be okay?"

"That I do not know."

Almost two hours passed before the radio came to life again.

"_Teal'c? This is SG1-leader. Come in, Teal'c._"

Lee froze mid-stride at O'Neill's familiar voice, much to Teal'c's inward amusement. "It is good to hear your voice. How close are you?" Teal'c asked.

O'Neill replied, "_Not very. We're at least four klicks east of the bunker entrance_."

"Who accompanies you?" Teal'c asked. Though he kept his voice level, he was anxious to hear the answer.

O'Neill gave a sigh. "_It's a long story, but I've got Markus, Daniel and, believe it or not, a Tok'ra._"

Teal'c had no reason to doubt O'Neill, but the news was surprising. He presumed that the Tok'ra had placed an operative undercover in Valhalla Sector. "Who?"

"_Malek_," O'Neill answered.

Teal'c stiffened. Why Malek? Markus must remember that they had called him Malek when they had first arrived. How awkward for O'Neill to look at Markus but remember to call the other man Malek. "Do you need us to fly closer to you?"

"_Yeah, T. That would help_."

After finding each other's location on a map, Teal'c signed off and Lee prepped the helicopter for their hop twelve miles north of their current location. While it would only take them minutes to reach where they had to go, it would take the ones on foot much longer.

\---+---

Lee landed the chopper in a tight square of land bordered by trees. It was the only flat clearing for miles around and there was no way he could get closer. As they waited, Lee began to dread the upcoming meeting. As much as he wanted to be in Markus' good graces again, another part feared rejection and wanted to hold off the inevitable for as long as possible. It also grated that O'Neill was the one to save him, when it should have been him.

A rumble in the sky caught his attention. It was a helicopter, approaching from the west, close enough it might have spotted their hop here on radar.

"We have company," He told Murray or Teal'c, or whatever his real name was.

"It is the black helicopter you previously pointed out."

Lee stiffened first in shock and then excitement. Waverly. Here? Almost alone. What an opportunity. "We need to take him down," Lee told the other man. "He's going to see us and call for reinforcements before Markus and O'Neill can get here."

"Agreed."

Reality set in. What did they have to shoot the other chopper down with? He mentally went through what had been packed, but found it hard to think of anything strong enough to bring down the whole bird. A missile launcher would have been nice, but they didn't have one. He took off the safety for his M16, prepared to do what he could.

The noise became louder and Lee watched Teal'c gracefully raise his stick weapon and fire it at the emerging helicopter. Lee's mouth dropped open at the bright bursts of fire, which obliterated the helicopter's tail. The chopper spun uncontrollably. Lee kept the chopper in sight and ran after it as it smashed through the trees north of them. In the distance he could see two men scramble out of the wreckage. The pilot was looking in his direction, whereas Waverly was trying to pull something from inside.

The pilot saw Lee, too, and Lee recognized him as Lieutenant Yarnell. A Waverly stooge. Both had to die. Yarnell fired at him, Lee shot back, taking cover behind a tree. The stick weapon also began firing and Yarnell shoved Waverly on the ground, behind one of the toppled trees.

Teal'c came over to him. "I will circle around. Here is my staff weapon, make it appear as though we both remain."

Lee gingerly took the stick and Teal'c showed him how to fire it. Lee couldn't hit anything with it, but it made for some great blasts. Keeping the two men stationary proved the hardest, and eventually they did separate. Lee saw Yarnell turn and fire at someone behind Waverly, breaking cover. With a smile, Lee raised his own gun and fired six rounds in rapid succession. The man went down.

But then, he saw Teal'c had Waverly by the throat and was hauling him back.

Teal'c withdrew something from inside his vest and used it to tie Waverly's arms behind his back. The older man wiggled and fought but Teal'c was much stronger. Lee kept his gun aimed at the general, hoping for an excuse to kill him, but it didn't come.

"You can't hope to get away with this!" Waverly threatened.

Teal'c took back his stick from Lee and started to march Waverly back toward their chopper. "Lee Chen believes you would be better dead. I believe Markus Alexander should make that decision."

"Markus? You expect Markus? He was half dead when I left." He sniggered to himself as he walked.

Lee stepped forward, tempted to hit him, "What did you do to him, you bastard?"

Waverly smirked. "Nothing he didn't deserve. He was very stubborn."

"And Daniel Jackson?" the big guy asked menacingly. "Was he also tortured?"

Waverly stared at Teal'c, looking like his mind was processing things rapidly. "No. We didn't think he was important. Apparently that was a miscalculation."

Teal'c tightened his grip on his stick weapon, but that was the only sign of a reaction from him. They entered the clearing with their helicopter. Waverly gave it a sullen look, annoyed by the evidence of Thunder Mountain's capabilities.

"You heard all your prisoners at Millhaven got away, right?" Lee asked, not above taunting the general right back. "Thunder Mountain came and snatched them right out from under Captain Davis. I warned Simmons he was a useless kiss-ass, but luckily no one listened to me."

Waverly looked at him coldly. "I heard you'd been compromised, but not that you'd gone to their side completely. A bit of misinformation to get Major O'Neill in trouble? I should have believed my other informant. He told me months ago that you had turned."

"Terence is dead," Lee stated with venom. He'd rejoiced when Erin had given them the news. "He got careless, and then he got shot."

Waverly's hands went white from clenching them while his face went red from anger. "This is a setback, but it's only a matter of time before Valhalla takes the Mountain back under our control."

A voice called out from within the trees. "That ain't gonna happen." O'Neill burst into the clearing followed by Daniel Jackson helping Markus.

For the next minute, things seemed to happen in slow motion. Waverly stared in shock at first O'Neill and then with narrowed eyes at Markus. "Guess you weren't as badly hurt as Gordon claimed."

Lee wasn't so sure of that. He knew what a healthy Markus looked like, and it wasn't this. He looked haggard, his skin colorlessly pale except for dark shadows beneath his eyes, and he was hunched over in evident pain. Daniel had his arm and helped him to sit down on a fallen log. "Oh, I was hurt," Markus replied breathlessly.

Lee noticed that Teal'c was also staring at Markus. "Much has happened, I see," he finally spoke. "I am glad you are still alive, Markus Alexander. There is much work for you to do at Thunder Mountain. If you are allowed."

"Allowed?" Markus questioned, then got a faraway look in his eye. "Oh, I see what you mean. I _**will**_ be allowed. They have no choice." He stared at Teal'c and his golden tattoo for a moment before his gaze returned to Waverly.

Daniel gave Markus a commiserating pat on the back and looked at Lee with a smile. "Hi. Do you have water? It was quite a hike."

"Oh, sure," Lee said, starting at the request. He was intensely curious to find out what had happened inside Valhalla, but he figured it had to wait. As he went to get the canteens, he heard O'Neill behind him contact the base.

"Eagle's nest, come in."

Erin answered, "_Jack? Is that you?"_

O'Neill smiled at Erin's eager voice. "Sure is. And I've got a tired eagle here, impatient to get back at the helm."

"_Markus_?" she asked, her voice echoing in wonder. "_He's there? He's alive?"_

O'Neill smiled and handed the radio to Markus. He paused for a moment then pushed the button to open the channel and spoke in a surprisingly strong voice, "Erin? Yes, I'm here. I'm fine. Just really eager to be back home."

"_I'm so glad. We're waiting_," she replied in a broken, tear-filled voice. "_Come home soon_."

"As soon as I can," he promised.

O'Neill took the radio back. "Erin, can I talk to Carter?"

Erin's voice was back under control when she answered, "_I've already sent someone to go look for her. Are you okay? Daniel?_"

"Yeah, we're fine."

"_Good. Glad to hear that. You might want to know that Kawalsky called us a little while ago,"_ she continued. "_He reported being in control there. Apparently somebody called Simmons was killed."_

Lee froze at that, while giving the canteen to Daniel. Simmons was dead? What the hell had happened inside? Waverly looked stunned, too, and furious. With Simmons dead, he had no chance to reclaim Valhalla Sector.

"Couldn't happen to a better guy," Jack told her, glancing at Markus, who seemed totally focused on drinking the water Daniel held for him. But the look told Lee what he'd suspected was true -- Simmons had interrogated him, and not lightly from the look of it.

Erin continued, "_Anyway, he said he could use some help, so Nathan's flying your, um, brother back, right now. Here's Sam_."

"_Colonel_?" Carter's voice came over the speaker.

"Yeah, it's me. We found you some naquadah."

Lee saw Waverly sputtering at the word "colonel" that O'Neill had just been called. He laughed to himself. Yeah, welcome to Oz.

"_In Valhalla Sector?_" she asked, sounding amazed.

O'Neill turned to lift a brow at Markus, who nodded permission. O'Neill answered carefully, "We ran into an old friend inside. One of your dad's buddies. They're bringing it."

Sam answered, "_Understood sir. I saw two in Millhaven. Good to know you made contact._"

"More than you know, Carter. But that's for later," he said, after both Daniel and Markus gave him warning looks. Sam gave the radio back to Erin for final words.

"Tell her about our prisoner," Lee reminded O'Neill.

The colonel grimaced. "Right. Erin? We're transporting one more back with us. General Waverly was captured by Lee and Murray. Have the brig ready."

_"Got it. Tell Markus we're all so relieved to have him back safe and sound and I'll let everyone know he's okay_."

Markus gave a faint smile and nodded. "He heard," O'Neill acknowledged. "See you tonight." He turned off the radio. "Well, campers, let's pack up and get home."

O'Neill and Teal'c forced Waverly into the chopper and they flanked him on the seats. Lee went to help Markus, but he had already turned to Daniel and was accepting his help inside. Lee felt the brush-off keenly as he stepped into the pilot's chair and began to prepare for the trip home.

\---+---

Daniel helped strap Markus in as if he hadn't the strength to do it himself.

Markus had the distinct impression of laughter from Malek. '_You don't. Every last bit was used to get here_.'

Since his hands had been trembling too hard even to put the buckle together, he couldn't argue. '_I'm tired of being helpless_.'

'_You were a hair's breadth away from death. Be happy you are breathing, rather than mad that you are weak_.'

'_I'm glad. Really. I just-_-'

"Are you okay?" Daniel broke in, looking concerned. He was kneeling next to Markus' seat, unwrapping a granola bar to put it in Markus' hand.

"Thanks. We're fine," Markus replied.

"It's the 'royal we' now, is it?" Waverly sneered. "I knew you were a dictator at heart."

Lee turned around in his pilot's seat, furious. "Leave him alone, Waverly. Or by God, I will shoot you dead, right here."

"Oh, I see," Waverly said in false realization of a great truth, watching Markus, "Chen does your dirty work -- "

"Shut up, Waverly." Jack warned him. "I've got no problem gagging you for the whole trip west. After all the crap you've pulled in the last few days, not to mention the last _**fifteen years**_, don't push me." He held Waverly's gaze until the general was the first to look away. With a rather vindictive look, Jack added, "Considering Markus is the guy who's gonna decide what's going to happen to you, you might want to rethink baiting him."

Markus held the bar in his hand, struck by that thought. Shit, he _**was**_ going to have to figure out what to do with Waverly. But not right now. Later. Much later when his mere presence wasn't making him nauseous. Thank God it wasn't Simmons on board. He wasn't sure he could bear that.

Jack reached into the rear section of the chopper and brought out helmets with comm gear inside. "Put this on so we can talk after the chopper hits the air. It gets kinda loud." Jack didn't give one to Waverly.

Lee started the helicopter and they took off. Jack and Lee talked back and forth, discussing wind speeds and trajectories, but Markus found he didn't care. He closed his eyes, discouraging anyone from talking to him.

Not that it quieted Malek.

'_How is it that these humans are traveling with a Jaffa_?'

'_Jaffa_?' Markus asked, tiredly, and then saw a picture of Teal'c in his mind.

'_They are the soldiers the Goa'uld use to fight their enemies_. _Teal'c has the mark of the First Prime of Apophis, one of the highest ranks of Jaffa warriors.'_

Markus could summon only mild interest. _'I have no idea about Jaffa or how Teal'c came to be with them_._ But I trust him. Whatever he was, he's clearly not any more.'_

Malek mulled over that in silence for a little while, and the vague feelings of hostility and suspicion faded away. Malek then commented, '_He also doesn't have a primm'ta, although I do not know how that is possible._'

In answer to his silent question, Malek gave him the information about the primm'ta. Markus put down his half-eaten bar, queasy. The Goa'uld had done it deliberately to create a race of warriors dependent on them. It was despicable. Evil.

Malek prodded, '_Ask him_.'

Markus sighed and spoke into the helmet comm. "Teal'c? Why don't you carry a primm'ta?"

Jack made a disgusted face. "It croaked. And good riddance."

Teal'c answered more seriously, "Indeed. My symbiote was required to save the life of myself and my mentor during battle. It did not survive the sharing. In fact it was Malek who helped refine a chemical called Tretonin which mimics the symbiote's effect in a Jaffa's body, and saved both my life and Master Bra'tac's."

Markus could feel Malek's astonishment. Not so much the part about another him, for which Markus envied his aplomb, but that there was something that could possibly cure the Jaffa of their Goa'uld dependency.

"Yeah, there's lot to tell you about, but not just yet," Daniel interjected. "With the mixed company and all," he nodded toward Waverly.

There was a relative peace for a time, while Malek was lost in his own thoughts, and Markus was content to drift. He couldn't sleep; the uncomfortable upright seat and the noise prevented it. But the world became hazy and he felt like he was floating. When the helicopter descended for the first of their refueling stops, he did fall asleep, only to jerk awake when the rotors started up again.

As the helicopter continued westward, he gazed out the window behind Jack, and watched as the view of the Great Plains replaced the hills of Tennessee. Of course, the once-vast sea of grain was now mostly wild, but one could still see the patchwork pattern of the fields. It was hypnotic.

But the unending vibration and noise of the machine soon pulled him out of his reverie, as his head started throbbing and his whole body was stiffening up in complaint. It was discomfort instead of pain, because of Malek's help, but short of putting them both in a deep sleep, there was little more the weary symbiote could give. As tempting as the idea of unconsciousness sounded, he didn't want to be so far down that he couldn't wake up if something happened.

Markus shifted in his chair. The letter from Devon crackled in his pocket. A torrent of grief came over him, which he realized came from Malek.

Eager for the distraction, Markus asked silently, '_You two were friends_?'

'_In the latter years. At first Devon distrusted me. I had to keep my cover and of course, I was too close to Waverly. However, I let him see hints that my actions were deliberate, keeping the others from learning the truth, which I could only do by understanding the virus myself. He realized that I was fighting them as well. I helped him as much as I could, which was very little. I do wish things had been different_.'

'_Me too. But lately I've started to wonder if there isn't some destiny or fate or something guiding events.' _ Markus felt the curious symbiote look for why he would think such a thing, and then Malek was shocked by the revelation that they two were apparently together in an alternate reality. _'You see? I don't believe it's coincidence that you and I have come together here.'_

Absently, Malek corrected his terminology, '_Blend. This process is called blending. Our minds merge and become one, but in reality, we are two, with each helping and strengthening the other_.'

'_That's a nice way to look at it. But I have to say it feels weird to have another voice inside my head_.'

'_All new hosts say that. You'll get used to it and it will become second nature_.'

Though somewhat reassured, Markus' thoughts turned to Thunder Mountain and how many actually knew about aliens. What would Erin say if he told her that he was now in fact Malek as Jack had first called him? Would she stop trusting him?

What about Meaghan? He felt suddenly cold, and his stomach turned to a ball of heavy lead. What would she say? Would she understand? Would she be afraid of him?

Malek stirred again at his rising fear. '_Meaghan_?' he asked curiously, and before Markus could give any sort of coherent explanation, Malek went fishing, pulling up the general outlines of Markus' relationship with her.

And he was shocked and horrified, but not by the relationship itself. '_You had a true Big Death secret? I gave Waverly something real?'_

Markus almost smiled at the irony. '_Yes. Meaghan is real, and she is a carrier. And I couldn't -- I just couldn't risk Waverly learning about her, so that's why I --' _he cut off that train of thought, hoping Malek didn't read it to the end. _ 'I had to protect her.'_

Malek felt his emotions and asked, '_You are in love with her? Despite the fact that you have never touched?'_

Markus grew very still and answered defiantly, '_I know it's strange. Believe me, we both know it's not "normal" by any stretch of the imagination. But that's the way it is.'_

Malek soothed him_. 'I meant no judgment, Markus. I was merely intrigued. You do realize, I hope, that I will likely be able to cure her? It may take some time and equipment, as well as several samples of her blood, but I -- '_

Paying no attention to the rest of it, Markus fixed on the idea that Malek could cure her. She could be free. He could open the doors and she could taste fresh air for the first time in fifteen years. He could finally see her in the sunlight.

Hot tears pricked his eyes and a lump grew in his throat. It was embarrassing how quickly he was so overwrought. He chuckled, trying furiously to push it all aside_. 'God, am I tired…'_

'_You are_,' Malek agreed somberly and then Markus was flooded with a strong sense of love and kind support. '_You need never be ashamed of your feelings with me_,' he said gently._ 'I do not believe feelings are a weakness, especially ones of such joy_.'

'_I've wanted that for her for so long … ' _ Markus struggled to try to keep his thoughts coherent. '_It's so amazing to think it's not a dream_.'

'_No, it's not a dream_,' Malek reassured him.

Markus had to take several deep breaths to try to regain some kind of control over his emotions. He closed his eyes, filling his mind with imaginings of opening the door and leading Meaghan out from her cell so she could see the sky again.

\---+---

Daniel was able to sleep some of the trip home, but he decided that traveling across the country in a helicopter was too hellish to ever do again. St. Louis to Virginia had been bad enough -- Virginia back to Colorado was a nightmare. Their only breaks were for refueling, when they all stretched and ate what they could

He glanced aside, frowning a little. Markus seemed asleep again, but his eyes flicked open at every air pocket, revealing that he was only dozing. He had picked at his lunch, and afterward had asked Daniel if he still had the pills Malek had made. He'd taken two, claiming he had a headache, which was probably true, since Daniel had a headache from the noise too. But as Daniel's very bones ached from the constant vibration, he had no doubt that Markus felt worse, symbiote or no symbiote.

But when Daniel suggested that they stay put overnight and rest, Markus shook his head. "I want to sleep in my own bed. In my own mountain with noises I know. We're close, let's just go home."

Jack had added with a glance at Waverly, who was at that moment enduring Teal'c's silent interrogation technique. "I think we've gotta get him someplace more secure. We're all tired, Daniel, and if he gets away…"

Daniel nodded, understanding the point but not liking it very much. He worried that Markus was pushing himself too hard. Tok'ra could heal a host's various injuries, but symbiotes needed rest just like any other being.

They all got back in the helicopter. Teal'c decided to pilot, giving Lee a break. Daniel suspected Teal'c was a little frustrated, in his stoic Jaffa way, at Waverly's lack of cooperation about Operation Valkyrie. So Jack and Lee kept a hostile eye on the general, while Daniel kept a friendlier eye on Markus.

Less than ten minutes in the air, Jack let out a loud gasp, for no obvious reason, and Daniel turned his head to see what happened, wondering if Waverly had managed some trick.

It was worse than he thought. There was a glow coming from Jack's helmet and even his clothes.

Daniel saw the images flash, as though two different Jack O'Neills were occupying slightly different pieces of space-time. It was particularly disturbing to see Jack's face, mouth and eyes wide, screaming.

Entropic cascade failure. Daniel felt his heart grow heavy with disappointment and fear. He'd thought Jack was through that danger.

"What the hell?" Lee crab-scrambled sideways, away from Jack.

Daniel sprang across the helicopter to Jack, holding out both hands to steady him. But he knew there was nothing else to do until the fit passed.

When it did stop, some eternity later, Jack sagged down onto the bench and Daniel put him down to rest. His pulse was still too rapid, but it seemed to be slowing.

"Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c called through the helmet, sounding worried.

"Entropic cascade failure," Daniel explained. "It's over. I don't understand why it's back, though. I thought it was done."

A soft voice came through the comm, Markus explaining, "It's the other Jack."

Markus had turned in his seat to watch. But unlike Lee, his gaze held no fear, only fascination. He added, "We just passed them in the air."

"What the hell was that?" Waverly demanded, sounding aggressive to cover his fear. Markus turned to look at Waverly. The general had a wide-eyed look, as his gaze darted from Jack and back to Markus.

Markus smiled slightly. He said loudly enough for Waverly to hear. "I hear old people catch it, Waverly. Hope you didn't touch him."

"You're lying!" Waverly blustered. "That can't be true." But he didn't know what to make of what happened to Jack, and so Markus' vengeance found fertile ground. Daniel was amused.

"Try not to sleep, or it gets worse," Markus advised with mock solicitude and turned back around, not even looking pleased at his words' effect on Waverly. Daniel followed his cue, ignoring Waverly's demands, but bent his head close to Lee's to give him a quick explanation. Lee seemed to accept the explanation calmly, but he returned to the front, while Teal'c stood watch over both Waverly and Jack.

Jack took a worryingly long time to return to consciousness, but when he did, he refused to stop. "If it's like before, it'll get better the further away we are. Keep going."

They did. They seemed to creep westward, as time passed slowly. But it did pass. The sun dropped lower and lower, shining directly into the cockpit for a short while, until finally disappearing behind the mountains rising out of the plain.

There was one more stop for dinner and refueling, and they were finally on the last leg of their journey.

As they approached Cheyenne, Lee and Jack took the front seats, and everyone came alert, in case Valhalla Sector was already waiting for them.

But no one fired on them as they made the last turn over the semi-wilderness of Fort Carson and up the canyon that went to the doors of the mountain. They were home.

\---+---

A long way behind them, Major O'Neill was also arriving home, finding that everything had changed.

"This way," Major O'Neill grunted, ushering Nathan and two more of his friends down the next hall.

Nathan was quiet as they navigated the corridors, no doubt exhausted from flying the chopper all day, and probably nervous about being in the enemy's stronghold. In truth, Jack wasn't as calm as his outward appearance suggested. Over the radio they'd heard bits and pieces of news. Some of it Jack could barely believe.

But the changes in Valhalla were nothing compared to how much he'd changed. He'd never realized how far he'd fallen from the man he'd once been, until Markus and Erin and Jeremiah had reminded him. Valhalla Sector had been corrupt for years and he had been too blind to see it clearly and too numb to care. But now he remembered how things **should** be, and he was determined to start helping clean up the mess.

His musing were abruptly shortened as Nathan came to a halt, staring uncertainly at a young woman who had stepped in front of them.

"Jack? I'm so glad to see you." She looked questioningly at Nathan.

With surprise, Jack recognized Jennifer Grogan -- a new, confident Jennifer Grogan -- greeting him with admiration and relief. He'd barely exchanged two words with her in the past. "Hello, Jennifer," he stammered back. "This is Nathan. He's from Thunder Mountain," he added, not sure how much to confide until he discovered how things stood.

"Hi, Nathan. Pleased to meet you," she responded, holding out her hand to shake his.

Nathan responded in kind with a smile. "Can't say I'm glad to be here, but I am glad not to be a prisoner here."

She gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, we're not known for our hospitality. But that's all gonna change." Jennifer turned back to Jack. "Charlie's been trying to restore order, but everything is such a mess. If it wasn't for Colonel Makepeace--"

"Colonel?" Jack choked out.

She looked a little embarrassed. "Oops. Can't help it, I still think of him as colonel. But y'know, he really should get his old rank back. He's helped Charlie so much. His Marines are keeping the fighting down, but there's a lot of people confused and--"

"Wanting to slide into power while there's a vacuum," he finished for her. "Do you know where Charlie is?" he asked hoping for some kind of direction.

"In the officer's lounge," she answered but had a strange look on her face, suddenly staring at him.

"What?" he asked, defensively.

"Did you do something different to your hair? I don't think it looked like that this morning, when we were with Markus."

"Choppers will do it every time," he joked, not knowing exactly how his hair was different. But some part of him was glad there was some difference between him and the fake Jack. "We better go see Charlie," he said feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "See you, Jennifer."

She gave him a warm smile and waved.

They made it to the elevator, where he ran into a marine contingent, on their way out of it.

"O'Neill," Major Kurakin acknowledged him with a nod, and Jack gave him one back. Kurakin was _**supposed**_ to be the Marine CO, but it seemed he was just fronting for Makepeace, after all. Which wasn't much of a surprise, now that Jack thought about it.

"Kurakin. Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

"The colonel's organized a search for Liberty Kaufman. She seems to have disappeared. Jennifer was the last to see her this morning."

Another one who thought of Makepeace as colonel. "Libby?" Jack felt a lump form in his throat. The poor sweet girl. What would Devon do without his assistant? "Right, well, don't let me stop you," he told them, claiming the elevator and pressed the level down. "I'm off to see Kawalsky."

The rest of the way was clear. A few nodded to him. One glared and retreated fast. Finally he came to the entrance and as he stepped inside, the utter silence stopped him dead. He had expected chaos, or at least a disorganized zoo, but everyone was as still as statues. At first he thought it was the shock of seeing him, but soon realized they were all staring at a person who was sitting on a chair with his hands tied behind him. All Jack could see was the back of his bald head, but that was enough to tell him who it was: Simmons' pet torturer, John.

Suddenly Charlie looked up and saw Jack. "O'Neill, about time you got back," he said hesitantly.

Jack joined Charlie, directly in front of the captive, feeling hurt and angry. Couldn't Charlie tell it was him, his best friend, and not the impostor? Nathan followed him, leaving the other two by the door.

Charlie glanced between him and Nathan, frowning. "Jack?" he murmured, so no one could hear. "Is it you?"

"Yeah, they let me go as soon as the others were on their way back." He raised his voice a little so the others nearby could hear. "This is Nathan; he's from Thunder Mountain."

A whisper went through the gathered people. Nathan smiled at Charlie. "Hi. I flew him back." After a mutual nod of greeting, Nathan glanced down at John, who was silent but whose eyes glittered with hatred. "And who's this?"

Charlie sneered. "John. This scumbag's the one who battered Markus to a pulp, enjoying every punch, jerking off at every drop of blood spilled." Charlie's voice was deep with rage as he stared at the unrepentant bully. "Just as you walked in, he told us that Libby was the one who shot and killed Simmons. We also have it on good authority that he's responsible for assassinating the president, on Simmons' orders."

Jack's head was reeling. The President was dead. Simmons was dead. Waverly was in custody at the Mountain. That left only West unaccounted for. But Libby killed Simmons? That seemed impossible. She didn't even like handling guns.

"We caught him as he was trying to leave," Charlie continued explaining. "Although he claims he was only tracking her." Charlie gave a hallow laugh. "He didn't know that we knew about his involvement with Emerson's death. Grogan told Makepeace just before he died."

No wonder Jennifer looked stronger, now that her good-for-nothing, abusive bastard of a husband was dead.

Jack frowned. "If that's true, and she did kill Simmons, why'd she leave? And where would she go?" It made no sense. She had to know she'd be heralded as some kind of hero--unless John was lying. He'd probably killed her. He met Charlie's eyes and saw that both of them believed John was lying. "Firing squad?" Jack suggested.

Charlie abruptly moved so that he face was inches from John's. "If Makepeace finds her body, you will be executed."

John spat in his face.

Charlie slowly stood, wiping the spittle from his eye, and flicking it back into John's face. "Come on, Jack. I've got some other things I need to fill you in on. Both of you," he added, with a glance at Nathan.

Jack cast a last glance at John, making a slashing motion across his throat, then followed Charlie and Nathan out.

"He hurt Markus?" Nathan asked, in the hallway.

"Yeah," Charlie confirmed with a tight mouth. "Pretty bad from what I could tell. He wasn't conscious when I saw him last."

"Erin talked to him and said he was okay," Nathan said. He cast off his worry with effort. "She also said she'd call here when he made it back to the mountain. So if you could make sure someone knows to come get me when she calls?" he asked, nice enough, but Jack knew he wasn't the only one to recognize the order for what it was.

His gaze met Charlie's, who answered, "Sure. No problem."

Nathan added, "And I'm sure Markus is gonna have something to say about your friend John, so you should hold off on doing anything, uh, permanent."

"Of course." Charlie's gaze met Jack's and he shrugged. It might instinctively rankle that they were taking orders from this kid, but it was a new world now and he figured he'd better get used to it.

"So, what did I miss?" Jack asked.

Charlie sighed. "Devon's dead. And so is Doc Fukizaki. Turns out he was blocking their access to the virus the whole time. But West's force hasn't come back or radioed in. It must mean they know Valhalla isn't friendly to them anymore."

"What about Millhaven?" Jack asked, concerned about their loyalty.

"Nothin'. West is probably there getting ready."

Getting ready for war, was what Kawalsky meant. Jack nodded. "He's gonna want Thunder Mountain and Markus eliminated. Vengeance if nothing else."

Charlie snorted. "Vengeance? Nah. This is West, y'know. Never found an order he didn't like, all the way over a cliff."

He mustered a chuckle until a large yawn escaped him. "I need some sleep. I can't even think anymore."

Charlie led the way to one of the temporary quarters. "You and your friends can bunk here," Charlie told Nathan. "I'm sure you're just as tired as the old man you flew here," he added with a smirk.

"If you need help with anything, feel free to wake us," Nathan offered and the three from Thunder Mountain went in.

"So. What's the scoop on our friend? You trust him?" Charlie asked, on the way to Jack's room.

Jack nodded. "Hell, yeah. He and Markus go way back. They're all good people. I'm proud to call any of them friends, although I'm not too sure they trust me, yet."

"We got a long way to go."

They were quiet as they walked slowly towards Jack's quarters. As they came to his door, Charlie spoke. "Can you believe it's us who seems to be responsible for this coup?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I mean neither of us is really hero material."

Jack opened his door. "I think we are, at least the different 'us'. And those people caused a chain of events here that none of us can stop. We just need to go with the flow and hope we help build something better."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. I'll let you get some rack time. Not too much -- price of being heroic."

"Let me know if Makepeace finds Libby. I miss that firecracker already." Jack entered his room. It felt as if an intruder had gone through his stuff, but he was too tired to do much about it now. He fell on the bed and was instantly asleep.


	33. Chapter 33

Sam entered the upper parking garage and paused, surprised by the crowd. It was after eleven, and she'd expected a bare minimum of people here to greet the helicopter. But apparently word had gotten around, and despite the hour, there were several dozen people who wanted to see Markus come home more than they wanted to sleep.

One of the massive outer doors stood open, letting in the cool evening air. She pulled her jacket closed and put her hands in her pockets, searching out Erin. As expected, the young blonde was standing near the doors with a small group, including Sarah, Jeremiah and Andrew. Even Kurdy was there, his injured arm in a sling.

Erin saw her approach and gave her an absent smile of welcome. "Five minutes."

"Quite a reception committee," Sam waved her hand at the others gathered behind them.

"Yeah, I know," Erin said and shrugged. "I can't tell them to go away, though I'm sure Markus would like me to. I'd rather people just see him and get it over with, than some kind of rumor spring up."

Sam glanced at Jeremiah. He was the only person in the entire hall who must dread the helicopter's arrival. His arms were folded, braced for bad news. He knew that his father wasn't on the helicopter, but that was all. From what Sam gathered, Markus had taken responsibility for telling Jeremiah what had happened. Nobody thought that meant it was good news.

At the sound of rotors, a wave of expectation passed through the crowd, and the murmurs grew more excited. But as the sound grew louder, the conversations slowed and came to a stop when a helicopter landed directly in front of the doors.

Erin moved forward eagerly, and that seemed to be a signal for everyone else to go closer, too, as the engines dwindled and the rotors began slowing. But no one crossed the threshold, Sam noticed with amusement. She was eager to see too, but hung back to let the others get closer.

The helicopter door opened and Daniel got out first. Sam had heard something in O'Neill's voice that suggested they weren't all quite as 'fine' as he had claimed, but she was relieved to see that Daniel seemed only a little worse for wear.

He waited near the helicopter as Markus was the next out. Sam watched him closely -- he had said he was okay, according to Erin, but Sam had heard Kawalsky on the radio say that Markus had been badly injured. To her relief, it seemed he was closer to 'okay'. He wasn't hurt that she could see, though he clearly hadn't showered or shaved in several days. But he was moving stiffly, and there was a bruised and sunken look to his eyes, which told her that he hadn't left Valhalla Sector without harm.

The entire group erupted in a spontaneous cheer. He seemed shocked for a moment, then smiled a little, looking pleased. Then he raised a hand and tried to quiet everyone. "Thank you," he called, and they fell silent reluctantly. "It's good to be home. I heard about what you did while I was gone, and I want everyone to know how proud I am of each and every one of you. You saved the chance for peace. You brought our new friends out safely, with minimum loss of life. And above all, you did what you had to do to protect this place and what it stands for. I'm eager to hear all the details just as soon as I can. But first, give me a chance to clean up." His smile was clearly forced, and made him look exhausted. He made a shooing gesture. "Thank you, really. I'll see everyone in the morning. Go on, get some sleep."

The crowd began to thin, letting others give their more personal greetings. Erin hugged him and then stepped back. "You're really all right?" she asked, frowning.

"I'm fine, Erin, really. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure, I promise," he said. His gaze went toward Sam, but stopped at Kate, who was now standing not far away. He came forward to take her hands in his. "Kate, I'm so sorry."

She nodded, blinking back tears. "At least you're safe. And that bastard's never hurting anyone ever again."

But as he came closer, Sam felt the odd tingle that she associated with naquadah. Or specifically symbiotes. She stared at him, shocked. He was a host. She opened her mouth -- to say what, she didn't know, maybe to warn the others -- but a sudden hand gripped her arm. She glanced to see Daniel had moved beside her.

"It's okay, Sam," he murmured for her ears alone. "It's Malek."

She stared again, but for a different reason this time. Malek? Markus was Malek's host now? Again?

She watched, but even though she felt the symbiote, she couldn't tell from his actions that he was different. He looked and sounded like Markus, greeting his friends, shaking hands with Andrew and getting a kiss from Sarah.

Daniel saw her astonishment and gave a weary smile. "It's a long story."

"That's … wow." She shook her head trying to think through what it would mean, but it was hard. So she changed the subject to something a bit more immediate. "Where's the colonel and Teal'c?"

"Still inside with Lee," he explained, pointing his chin toward the helicopter. "They've got Waverly. Markus wanted to wait until the crowd was gone to move him."

She nodded, but stopped to watch as Markus went up to Jeremiah next. "Let's go downstairs," he requested gently. "I have something to tell you."

Jeremiah swallowed hard, but assented. Kurdy gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze. "Later, man, if you wanna talk, I'll listen."

Jeremiah nodded, and then he and Markus went through the side door.

As soon as Markus was gone, the crowd dispersed, leaving only a small group.

Lee and O'Neill came out of the helicopter, followed by a gray-haired military man that Sam didn't know, and Teal'c at the rear, watching the officer closely. Waverly's hands were bound, but that didn't stop him from looking around.

"So this is the great Thunder Mountain," he sneered. "A bunch of kids."

Erin glared at him. "A bunch of kids who beat your old ass, Waverly. Don't forget that part. Take him to the brig," she told Lee. "He can rot there for all I care."

"My pleasure," he answered. "I don't suppose we can get lost between there and here and have a little accident?"

She looked tempted for a moment, but shook her head. "No. It's Markus' call what to do with him." She leaned forward and addressed Waverly with a not-nice smile of her own. "I hope he lets me decide. I heard what you were going to do to him, you know. And I'm a great believer in 'what goes around comes around.'"

The smugness left Waverly's face briefly, before he rallied. "You haven't won anything yet, little girl."

Lee shoved him forward, shutting him up, and he and Teal'c escorted the prisoner away.

Erin rolled her eyes at Waverly's back, and turned a grateful smile on O'Neill. "I wanted to thank you for getting Markus, and of course Daniel," she quickly included, "out of there. It wasn't something you had to do, but you did it anyway. Somehow."

O'Neill smiled and patted her shoulder. "Glad to help, Erin."

She straightened and nodded, flashing them both another smile. "Well, thanks anyway. Go get cleaned up and we'll have a short meeting in Markus' office in fifteen minutes."

"We'll be there," Daniel assured her.

She walked off, Sarah and Andrew following, leaving just O'Neill, Daniel, and Sam in the cavernous garage. The outer doors were closed now, but it hadn't gotten appreciably warmer. Sam put her hands back in her jacket pockets, still thinking about the oddness of Markus becoming Malek's host, and two more Tok'ra wandering around at Millhaven. What were they doing here?

O'Neill's voice broke into her thoughts. "Since we're all thanking each other, Carter, I wanna thank you on your excellent timing of the Millhaven op."

She turned to him, frowning curiously. "What do you mean?"

"It was our ticket out. We needed a diversion and the minute he heard about it, that bastard --" he waved in the direction the general had gone, "assembled a big chunk of his forces and left Mount Pegasus. It was hard enough getting out as it was. But there'd have been no way without it."

Sam stiffened when she realized how close she had come to jamming Millhaven's signal. Thanks to the traitor's intervention, she hadn't, and -- she didn't want to think how close a call that had been. She shrugged. "Wasn't my decision, Colonel."

"So, which Tok'ra did you see?" O'Neill asked.

She cleared her throat and tried to speak in a neutral tone, "Martouf. And Rosha. I'm pretty sure that's who she was. Martouf helped Jeremiah do recon, and I gather Jolinar was trapped inside with the prisoners." She let out a chuckle. "Jeremiah calls him Marty, too."

"Ah," O'Neill nodded, "Great minds and all that." But despite the humor, his gaze was sharp on her, and she had no doubt that O'Neill saw more than she wanted him to. Meeting Rosha and seeing Martouf again were extremely tantalizing.

"It's Jolinar," Daniel confirmed. "Malek's got some kind of communication device and used it to talk to her."

"Why are they here?" Sam wondered aloud.

"No idea. But Malek sent them off to get us some naquadah," O'Neill said. "And you're going to build us a naquadah reactor, Carter, and we're going to get the hell out of here. I'm sick of this planet -- the good guys are bad, the bad guys are good, and the really bad guys are totally evil. I want to go back to where it's _**normal**_." He walked off toward the door, leaving Daniel and Sam to share a glance. Daniel shrugged, Sam shrugged back, and they followed.

\---+---

Jeremiah followed after Markus who went down two floors and into a small, but nice conference room. He knew it was bad news. At best, his dad was still in Valhalla Sector. But he doubted it, or why wouldn't they just say so?

"You want to sit down?" Markus invited and gestured him toward a chair. Jeremiah folded his arms and shook his head.

Markus opened his mouth, probably to tell him to sit down, but he shrugged instead. "Okay, suit yourself," Markus said and pulled out one of the chairs for himself, easing into it and letting out a sigh of relief. "It's been a long day for both of us." He sat in silence for a long moment, staring off into space, before he pulled himself together and said, "You did a good job with Millhaven. I don't think Valhalla Sector would have kept them alive much longer."

Jeremiah nodded impatiently, but didn't prompt Markus to get to the point. His stomach had tightened up in dread, and he felt like he could barely breathe. But he was in no hurry to hear what Markus had to say.

But of course, since Markus generally did exactly the opposite of what Jeremiah wanted him to, he decided that it was a perfect time to talk about it after all. "I'm sorry, that's not what you want to hear, is it? But there's no good way to say this, I guess." He paused again, raised a hand to his face and rubbed at his chin, putting his hand down with a grimace of distaste. "I met your father only this morning, when Jack and some others were ready to help us get out. He was very eager to see you. But …" his words came more haltingly, and Jeremiah knew there was a lot he was skipping over, "during our escape attempt, we were all … trapped. Ambushed. There was a firefight. Your father was hit. He might have made it if he'd surrendered to Simmons, but he didn't want to. Instead he volunteered to take Jack's machine gun and hold back the enemy from our backs. And he did."

Jeremiah listened to the story with a growing sense of disconnection, as though what Markus was saying was coming from a great distance away. It didn't seem real. He folded his arms tightly around himself, trying to keep the pressure building in his chest from exploding outward.

But Markus didn't seem to notice, watching something in his memory and speaking in that level, quiet voice. "I would be dead right now, if it wasn't for him. Before we had to leave him he made me promise to give this to you, when I saw you again." Markus pulled out an envelope from the pocket of his jacket and tried to hand it to him. Part of Jeremiah wanted to grasp the letter, but all his muscles had tightened up, and refused to move. Markus' face softened and he set it down on the table in front of Jeremiah.

He saw his name written on the front in handwriting he dimly recognized. The envelope was wrinkled and there were two reddish streaks on it of what looked like dried blood. His father's blood?

"I'll let you read it in peace," Markus said and got to his feet. "I'm sorry, Jeremiah. I would've brought him with me if I could. He was very brave. I owe him my life. And I --" he stopped, seemed to reconsider his words and finished awkwardly, "well, I'm sorry. I'll go now."

Jeremiah stared at the envelope. He continued to hear Markus vaguely talking in the background, as he moved toward the door.

"What else should I say? … no, I'm no good at this … he doesn't want that, not now --"

It penetrated the fog that Markus was apparently carrying on half of a conversation with nobody. Markus could be odd, but he didn't usually talk to himself.

Jeremiah pulled his gaze from the envelope and turned his head. Markus was still at the door, his hand on the knob, but he hadn't opened it yet. He was looking blankly at the light switch on the wall. "Markus?"

"What?" Markus twitched as though roused from a dream and saw Jeremiah looking at him. "Oh. I said that aloud?"

Jeremiah nodded, and frowned up at him. "You okay?"

Markus gave an embarrassed jerk of his head. "Sure. I'm fine. Just tired," he added with an unconvincing reassuring smile. "I'm going to go shower and change." He opened the door and glanced back at Jeremiah. "I -- I, uh, heard some stories about your dad from one of his friends there, and later, if you want, I'd be glad to tell you. But anyway, you should know, I … I wish things had gone differently."

"Yeah, you and me both," Jeremiah said. It was a reflexive response, not one he had to think about, but it was true.

Markus left, leaving Jeremiah with an envelope from his dad that seemed to fill up the entire table.

All this time. His dad had been just out of reach and now he was gone. Fifteen fucking years of searching, of believing, of hoping … and this was what he had left.

Memories of the last time he had seen his parents filled his mind, playing like an old video, worn and stretched -- his dad carrying a shotgun, his mother crying as she hugged him and his little brother fiercely. And his dad's words, "_the last plane leaves for Valhalla Sector in an hour_…"

They'd promised to be back, but they hadn't. He and his brother had waited and waited as the world burned around them, but his parents had never come home. Finally they'd gone looking, walking to his dad's building to find the place was trashed and empty. There had been nothing about "Valhalla Sector" there at all, so they'd had to start looking.

Later, his brother had been killed, leaving Jeremiah with the burden of explaining to his dad, someday, how his second son had died because Jeremiah hadn't looked after him carefully enough. Had his dad even known Jeremiah was the only one left?

He reached out and touched the envelope, then pulled his hand back as though it burned him. No, he couldn't read it, not now. He had to get out of here. He knew well-meaning people were going to come looking for him any minute, and he didn't think he could bear sympathy right now.

Standing, he stuffed the envelope in the pocket of his jacket and left the stifling conference room.

\---+---

In the restroom nearest his quarters, Markus soaped everything twice, his hair one more time, and then stood under the shower, letting the sound and feel of the water lull him into calm.

'_I like the water too,'_ Malek murmured in his head. '_The large baths in our tunnels are wonderful. Warm mineral pools that the Tok'ra all relax in. Chuan was especially fond of them.'_

Markus felt Malek's sorrow at his previous host's loss almost as his own. He would be hard-pressed to explain the difference, but he knew it wasn't his, even though he felt it.

He wanted to stay under the water forever. But he couldn't. There was too much to do, too much to catch up on for him to stay in here much longer. But a few more minutes … no one would begrudge him that.

Abruptly Malek seemed to twitch with alarm. '_Someone has entered the room.'_

'_It's a public bathroom,'_ Markus reminded him, but nevertheless tensed. He realized he was extremely vulnerable here, trapped in the shower stall without a weapon. Just because Erin had discovered Terence didn't mean there might not be another spy for Valhalla tucked away, burning for revenge about Valhalla's collapse.

He listened, and heard nothing. Malek said, '_He is not doing anything. Merely standing there.'_

Markus' heart leapt and began to pound. He had to take careful measured breaths, and reached for the towel he'd hung on the hook next to the curtain, trying not to make noise.

'_If you wish, I can take control,' _Malek offered._ 'I will have no qualm about fighting anyone for our preservation, no matter who it is.'_

Markus agreed, knowing he might very well hesitate if it was someone he knew. With that, he had a sense of dislocation, as though he was now watching everything on television. He was still looking out of his own eyes and he could feel his body, but when his hand lifted to turn off the water, he knew he hadn't done it. It was a very odd sensation. It was as though he was some sort of ghost, unable to touch or interact with his surroundings, only watch.

'_You will become more accustomed to it, in time_,' Malek consoled him, wiping off with a towel and wrapping it around his waist, after Markus objected to walking into the changing room naked.

With a centering, calming breath, Malek pulled the curtain and walked out, ready for a confrontation and fight if there was one.

Markus saw immediately that there was no need for a fight. His quiet visitor was none other than Teal'c. While Malek was having trouble reconciling the fact that Apophis' First Prime had defected and was their friend, Markus didn't. Hadn't Charlie and Jack and Lee turned from Valhalla Sector when given the chance? Malek granted the point and somehow stepped aside, so that Markus was back in control of his body again.

"Teal'c?" Markus asked in confusion. "Is something wrong?"

Teal'c nodded his head in greeting. His expression was quiet, but Markus saw a small frown hovering. "I was not aware you had been beaten. Is your symbiote having trouble healing you?" he asked, dropping his gaze to Markus' chest and arms where Markus knew his bruises were still lividly violet.

"No, it's --" Markus glanced around to make sure no one else was in the room to hear, though it was too late for that caution. "We decided that he couldn't fix everything right away. Just about everyone in Valhalla Sector knows I was hurt and word travels, so it would be strange if I healed up too fast. But it looks much worse than it is," he added quickly and started getting himself into his clothes. He really didn't care for the pity lurking in Teal'c's dark eyes. "What can I do for you?"

Teal'c gracefully acceded to his change of subject and held up a small leather case. "On the helicopter you seemed uncomfortable with facial hair. I have brought my kit and my assistance to remove it, if you wish."

Markus glanced up at the closely-shaved head and felt a genuine smile for the first time in days. "Oh yes! I wasn't looking forward to doing it myself. Only one thing's worse than my sad excuse for a beard, and that's my hands shaking while taking it off."

A small smile of amusement lightened Teal'c's features as he bowed his head in agreement. "Indeed. If you would sit, I will begin."

Only a little while later, Markus rubbed his chin, and felt considerably more human.

'_Which is rather ironic, considering_… Malek pointed out and Markus smiled. He stood up and slipped his favorite brown sweater over his head, ready to face the rest of the night. He couldn't wait for bed, but there were things he had to see to first.

"Thank you, Teal'c. I should probably go down to my office and let Erin yell at me for a little while," he said, a bit ruefully. By now she'd gotten used to the idea that he was back, and "I-told-you-so" was very likely at the top of her list of things to say to him.

"She was most concerned," Teal'c told him soberly. "But she was a warrior, and tended to the needs of the mountain above her own."

"Good to know," Markus replied, trying to ignore the rill of unease that slipped down his back. Teal'c's words strayed a little too close to something he'd been carefully _**not**_ knowing for a few years now.

He gathered up his things to take back to his room and headed for the door. "Thanks again, Teal'c."

But he noticed right away that Teal'c was following him. He stopped in the corridor, took a deep breath and turned. His eyes fell on the zat'nik'tel attached to the Jaffa's belt, partially hidden by his BDU jacket. "You're not still bodyguarding me, are you?"

Malek was uneasy. '_The__Jaffa guard the Goa'uld. This feels wrong_.'

Teal'c returned patiently, "Until I am certain that there is no further danger from outside infiltrators, yes. We still do not know what Operation Valkyrie is nor how it affects Thunder Mountain."

That was true, and it was Markus' greatest worry. Waverly had been singularly unhelpful about that question on the helicopter, holding to his hostile silence even when Teal'c glared at him. The smirk on Waverly's face whenever he realized Markus' eyes were on him, had been too much to take.

"Fine." Markus resumed the walk, resigning himself to Teal'c tagging along, at least for the moment.

'_Considering that we were both concerned about a possible attack, perhaps it isn't such a bad__idea,'_ Malek reluctantly pointed out. '_I doubt many enemies will attempt anything with a Jaffa at your back. Since he makes you feel more secure, there is no harm in allowing him to __help. But let's not inform Lantash or Jolinar of this.'_

Markus nodded, then realized he was still responding outwardly when he didn't need to. But it was hard to separate the thought and feeling from outward expression, even when he knew he had to, or the others were going to figure it out.

The Tok'ra didn't answer in words exactly, just a sense of reassurance and support that he was doing well and these things took time. Which Markus appreciated, but he didn't like the feeling that he was a slow learner.

After depositing his toiletries in his room, they passed several residents, who all gave him friendly greetings, welcoming him back. He returned them all, trying to smile, but inwardly he was more rueful. '_Never so popular until after I'm gone, apparently. Maybe I should get captured more often…'_

'_I think that is a terrible idea,'_ Malek retorted, but he was amused.

He knew from the sounds carrying into the corridor that his office door was open and there were several people inside, talking. His footsteps slowed. From the doorway, he had a good look to see who was there -- Erin, of course, Sarah, Andrew, Kurdy, Jack, Sam, and Daniel. Like him, Daniel and Jack had also changed their clothes.

Erin was the first to notice he was there. At first her expression tightened in concern, but then she smiled brightly. "Markus! Feel better?"

He nodded. "Much." He moved forward to his desk in front of the windows where the six small pots holding his violets were still in a row. One of the little buds had flowered while he had been gone, turning into a perfect, delicate splash of color. He touched it lightly in gratitude for the welcome.

He lifted his gaze to the Stargate standing at the end of the large room beyond and felt a wordless sort of sigh come from Malek at the sight. '_This chappa'ai was buried about five thousand years ago in the uprising against Ra,'_ Malek told him. '_We have long wondered where it was and what became of it. To find it here and now, in this place, is a miracle.'_

He realized there was silence behind him and turned, to see them all watching him in various states of concern. He really had to start getting a grip and do his job. "Well," he put his back to the window, leaning against his desk. "Just so everybody's on the same page -- Jeremiah's father, Devon, died during our escape. Jeremiah was pretty stunned when I told him." He glanced at Kurdy. "I think he'll need somebody to talk to."

Kurdy nodded. "I know. I'm on it."

Markus folded his arms, ignoring the twinges from touching the bruises, until the discomfort went away as if Malek had poured cold water over him. "I think the most important thing right now is Valhalla's Operation Valkyrie. I'm assuming that they're up to no good against us, but they had at least two hours head start and they're not here. So we'd better find them. Thoughts?"

Jack tapped a pencil on the table. "Kawalsky didn't know about it. And, um, Gordon didn't know about it, right?" he asked, raising his brows at Markus, who shook his head once in answer. Jack tossed the pencil down. "Then it was something they planned pretty recently and got kicked off by the Millhaven group getting freed. I'd lay money they went to retake Millhaven and they're regrouping there to attack here."

"But this place is a bunker," Daniel objected. "I mean, that's the whole point of Cheyenne. Attacking it seems kinda futile."

"No," Jack disagreed. "Not if they stopper everyone inside. Lay siege. I don't know how much Lee and that other rat told the brass about the supply situation here, but the food _**sucked**_ there. They might be planning to starve you out. The good news is, that's gonna take a long time." He waved a hand at the window, presumably meaning the garden down in the cafeteria.

But food had never been Markus' chief concern in case of siege, especially by an enemy who knew the mountain. "If it were only food, you'd be right," Markus said. "But air is the problem. We can close off the intakes to prevent them from tampering and go to the tanks, but with our current numbers, that would last less than a week." He had hoped that all of their hydroponics would scrub enough carbon dioxide to make the base totally self-sufficient, but it was nowhere near enough.

"But even that's a long time," Sam pointed out. "We showed at Millhaven that we have force projection capability, too, and we don't keep it all here. If Waverly's got three brain cells to rub together, he knows a siege only works so long as the enemy can't outflank him and hammer him on the anvil."

Malek commented, '_Waverly, unfortunately, has more than three brain cells. Sam is right -- from what he has said in the past, he would not attack this place until he was more assured of victory.'_

Which was why one of Simmons' most persistent questions had been about Thunder Mountain's defensive capability.

The smooth voice was back in his ear again, '… _how many guns, Markus? How many helicopters? How many fighters do you have in the mountain? Tell me -- '_

He twitched, hands clenching with the effort to push the memory away. He didn't have time for this. Simmons was dead, and there were far more important things to deal with.

'_You told him nothing,' _Malek reminded him and somehow offered reassurance that helped Markus relax again. '_Since you told him nothing, logically then the plan cannot depend on knowing what your forces are.'_

Which suggested the plan might not be a direct attack at all.

'_Simmons had a hand in the plan, too,'_ Malek reminded him. '_He enjoyed elaborate schemes based on deceit and misdirection. As we saw.'_

From his post at the doorway, Teal'c added, "General Waverly was surprised by the report of his agent's death. Perhaps Terence was to open the doors here to let them in."

"No," Erin shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. They couldn't communicate with him. How could they plan something like that?"

Malek added, '_Waverly remained smug after he learned of his spy's death.'_

Markus felt chilled as another piece fell into place. "There's another one. Someone planted at Millhaven, probably. How many came inside?" he asked Erin.

"Only a few," she answered. "The ones who were injured mostly and every --"

"Mostly?" he interrupted, not liking the sound of that.

"Theo's inside," she explained with a wry look, and Andrew looked as though he'd bitten a lemon.

"She said she'd talk to you tomorrow." Before he could express his lack of joy at that threat, Erin went on, "Plus a handful who wanted to stay with the injured people. Everyone else is down at Fort Carson, if we're not already transporting them home."

"Tell me we have security around them all?" he asked, and saw by the way Erin's face fell that it wasn't true. Before she could open her mouth, he glanced at Andrew and Sarah. "Check on them, and make sure they're all under guard, including the wounded ones if they might possibly get up any time soon. At this point, I don't care if they're offended or not."

Andrew nodded his approval -- he'd always wanted Thunder Mountain to be less open, so this was something he definitely liked -- and they went off to see to it.

With his gift of coming straight to uncomfortable truths, Kurdy asked, "What about Lee? What if he's still playing both sides?"

Markus hesitated. He believed Lee was sincere. But he also recognized that Lee was skilled enough at deception that he could fool Markus, since he'd already done it once. Markus hadn't spoken more than a few words to Lee the whole trip home, so that was no help. He had expected Lee to be here and it was disturbing not to see him. Why wasn't he here?

"Lee Chen has chosen his side," Teal'c declared. The Jaffa had the most recent experience with Lee, so that was reassuring, but as Markus exchanged a glance with Erin, he knew he wasn't the only one who was bothered by Lee's absence.

"Does it matter?" Sam asked. "The door codes are still in effect. If there is another spy, Lee or anybody else, nobody can open the main doors without it."

"I'd rather not put that to the test. And there are other ways a spy could hurt us," Markus said. But then, trying to think of what else to do or say, his mind went blank. He knew there were other things he should be doing, but he couldn't come up with them.

'_You are exhausted,'_ Malek told him. '_We slept poorly on the helicopter. Nor are you fully healed. It is time to rest.'_

He was saved from needing to do anything when Victor appeared in the doorway. Teal'c blocked him, saw that he was carrying a tray, and stepped aside.

Victor's eyes sought Erin, and she smiled at him, beckoning him in. "Ah, there you are. Bring it here."

Victor came in and set the tray on the table, and Markus saw that it looked like a bowl of tomato soup and bread. Erin thanked Victor, which made him blush, and then Victor backed out of the room, mumbling something to Markus which was probably meant to be 'welcome home.'

Erin gave pointed looks to everyone else in the room. "Well, apparently nothing more's happening tonight. Andrew and Sarah will check the status of our guests. It's been a long day and I think everyone should get some sleep. We'll reconvene in the morning."

Markus didn't bother to protest her high-handedness. He wanted to, out of reflex, but he knew he wasn't the only tired person in the room. Valhalla Sector was still out there someplace, but they weren't inside the doors. Yet. Better to take what rest they could.

Jack opened his mouth as if to complain, but Erin glared at him. He chuckled in resignation and got to his feet. "All right, all right." He gestured for Sam and Daniel to get up too. "C'mon."

"Good night," Sam wished everyone. "Glad you're back, Markus." They obediently filed out.

"I'll go check on Jeremiah," Kurdy offered and shortly was gone too.

Teal'c was the last to leave. "I will be outside," he informed them and closed the door behind him.

Now that the two of them were alone, Erin pointed at the chair. "Sit. Eat. You look like that desk is the only thing keeping you on your feet."

"Is it that obvious?" He complied with only a token wry look. The smell and sight of the food was making him nauseous, but out of appreciation for her thoughtfulness he picked up the bread and tore off a small piece to chew. "So, talk to me. What happened?"

"First, I have a question." She paused, bit her lip, and then blurted, "Why didn't you tell me about the fleet at Carson?"

At first he had no idea what she was talking about, then realized she must mean the working helicopters. Then he frowned. "Yes, I did."

She shook her head and put her fists on her hips. "Did not. Not a word about the choppers."

He picked up his spoon to make himself taste the soup. "I did. I distinctly recall, three years ago, telling you that we recovered all of the Colorado Springs military bases almost immediately after we opened the doors and that included all their supplies and equipment." He normally liked tomatoes, but when his gorge rose at the first sip, he left the spoon in the bowl. Casting back in his memory, he tried to remember the specific conversation in more detail, and once he did, had to admit, "I guess you're right, I didn't specifically _**say**_ helicopters. But you said you were going to go look at Carson right after, so I thought you'd seen them."

She had never brought it up again and he had thought the matter was done with. The equipment at Carson had been a secret to most within the Mountain, intended for some future emergency, and not something that came up in conversation.

She shook her head in frustration. "No. When I went, nobody showed me any helicopters, just the old barracks, some heavy weapons, and trucks."

He winced inwardly, realizing this was his fault after all. He hadn't sent the clearance for her to see everything, for the simple stupid reason that he hadn't thought she would need it.

"Sorry, Erin. I wasn't keeping it from you. I thought you knew," he said, meaning it. The irritation and hurt dropped from her face and she smiled a little, shaking her head ruefully.

"It's all right. I guess I can't complain that you don't know _**everything**_," she teased.

Letting out a sigh, he said, "Not even close. I didn't know about Lee and I sure as hell didn't have any idea about Terence. I still find it hard to believe that he could _**murder**_ Kristen." He suspected that he'd had his own narrow escape when Terence had tried delivering the unnecessary report to him. If not for Jack being in the hall …

Turning his mind away from that frightening thought, he said heavily, "Might as well get this over with. What else don't I know about what happened here and Millhaven?" The sound of his spoon clattering in an empty bowl drew his attention, and he looked down to realize he'd eaten everything on the tray, with no memory of doing it. '_Malek?'_

The Tok'ra was neither repentant nor defensive, merely matter-of-fact. '_You would not have eaten, and we need food.'_

_'Probably true. But you will __**not**__ make me sleep without my permission,'_ Markus declared. Time to nip this excess zeal in the bud. '_Agreed?'_

'_Even if --' _Malek began, but Markus cut him off.

'_I'm a big boy, I can figure it out myself.'_

Erin's voice roused him, "Markus?" He looked up, to find she had taken the chair across from him and was watching him worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked. "Charlie told me you were hurt. Actually he said he wasn't sure you'd make it home," she added softly and bit her lip.

She was going to have to know the truth, but not right now. "It's not that bad. A little roughed up, and my head is killing me from the damn helicopter, but really, I'll be fine. I was thinking -- we've got Waverly …" She nodded encouragement, and he continued, making it up as he went. "I should tell West that. Maybe it'd be enough to make him back off. I'd like to end this without getting more people killed."

She reached across the table and patted his arm. "Markus, _**you**_ are not getting people killed," she told him. "It's not your fault."

He didn't say anything, but the image of Alyssa lying so still in the snow came up in the memory and said her words weren't true. Would she be dead if not for _**his**_ oh-so-brilliant plan of meeting in St. Louis?

'_No,'_ Malek answered the silent question with such sharp honesty Markus flinched. But the Tok'ra wasn't finished. '_But nor would Valhalla Sector have been overthrown without your meeting. Alyssa risked herself knowingly, and you demean her choices when you take them on yourself. The path to wisdom is not to drown in the guilt of what has already happened, but to let those tragedies remind you that they should not die in vain.'_

Malek was right. Markus let out a soft sigh. But that said, he still wanted to try to end this. '_Do you think West is reasonable enough to realize it's over?'_ he asked Malek, wondering if his off-the-cuff plan had any hope of succeeding.

'_Perhaps,'_Malek answered, doubtfully. '_He was always very dutiful toward Waverly. He did not like Simmons, but I never heard him actually stand against anything they had decided.'_

It wouldn't hurt to try, was what it came down to. Markus looked at Erin, "Well, that's a project for tomorrow, I guess. I'll see if I can get a hold of West and persuade him to stand down. We also need to send a recon team to Millhaven and see what's happening there."

She nodded her agreement. "I think Brian and Steve would love to go north again. They're getting to know that route pretty well." She watched him for a moment in silence, head cocked to one side, before she said softly, "You can't fool me, you know. Charlie told me what happened." Her hand was still on his arm, he realized, and she had pushed back the sleeve of his sweater enough to expose his wrist and the bracelet-like welt around it. "What else is there?"

He pulled free and stood up, now irritated by her persistence. "I told you nothing was wrong that sleeping wouldn't cure, and that's the truth. I'll be fine. There's no reason --"

A knock on the door interrupted, and he called to come in. Sarah entered, past Teal'c. "Just wanted to report that all our guests are accounted for and sleeping snug in their beds. Andrew's arranging security now."

Markus let out a long breath, releasing tension he'd felt since he'd had the suspicion that they were harboring another traitor. This certainly wasn't conclusive -- since even traitors and saboteurs had to sleep -- but it was a good sign.

"Great news, thanks, Sarah."

She grinned at him and shook her head at him, admonishing, "Get some sleep, Markus. You too, Erin. You both look like you need it." She left, and Erin stared after her, grumpily.

"How come she gets to look gorgeous at midnight?" she muttered. "It's not fair."

He had to smile. "I still see the snotty brat she used to be. But she has a point. C'mon, my faithful escort and I will take you back to your room."

"And then you'll go to bed?" she asked, challenging him to say yes, when she doubted he would.

'_Yes,'_ Malek agreed, unexpectedly interjecting himself into Markus' mind again. '_We need sleep.'_

He looked away. It was a good idea, but he couldn't sleep yet. Not without knowing, without making sure … "I need to go see Meaghan first."

"She knows you're here, safe and relatively sound." Erin reassured him. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind waiting until you're more rested."

"No," he shook his head. Erin was right, but that didn't matter. Five nights and days of nightmares were not so easily put aside. He raised his hand, mimicking the gesture he always made in the dream, right before she turned to dust under his touch.

His hand tightened to a fist. He had to make sure, for his own peace of mind that she was okay. "I need to see her before I can sleep."


	34. Chapter 34

The pleasure Lee had taken at locking Waverly away dwindled as he trudged through the halls, towards his quarters. He was back, but nothing had changed, not really. He had helped capture Waverly, but had Markus said anything about it? No. He hadn't said anything to Lee at all. The few times he had looked at Lee, his gaze seemed calculating, as though wondering what scheme Lee was working now. But mostly Markus had ignored him altogether.

It hurt to admit it, but he knew he had barely started to rebuild Markus' trust in him. At most, all he'd done was enough to let Lee stay out of the cell next to Waverly's.

Lee recalled what Teal'c had said, about giving Markus the chance to see his true self. And that, above all, meant that he had to first come clean. He had to get rid of who he had been, before he could show who he was.

Opening the door to his room revealed a mess, far worse than the one Jeremiah had made. He doubted Erin had ordered another search. Had Terence or some other spy gone through his room? What had he been looking for and had he found it? The phone was no longer here, since Markus had taken it. He could see the personnel files, some of them half-buried under tossed clothing.

That left the page and the key. He pulled out the lower drawer of the bureau completely and felt the back; a little sigh of relief escaped him. The page was still there, where he'd left it. Very carefully he removed the tape and put the single sheet of paper into his pants pocket. It would have to go to Markus. It might not matter anymore, but it was still indicative of the kinds of things Lee had been keeping from Markus and now, no longer would.

The desk drawer was already upside-down on the floor. Lee had kept the key there, with a bunch of other little things, including other keys, old coins, binder clips, and a small collection of rocks, hiding his most valuable possession in plain sight. All of it was now strewn across his clothing and papers.

He squatted on the floor and began carefully going through everything. He patted each item of clothing before he put it away and flipped every sheet of paper or book to make sure nothing small could get trapped inside. Every key he found he put back in the desk drawer, but none were the right one. He continued, going through everything just to be thorough. He_hoped_ that Terence had been looking for the phone and had overlooked the key and it had just fallen and gotten lost. But he knew he was grasping at straws. Terence had always been Lee's secret backup and it was unlikely that Simmons hadn't told him about Lee's key.

When his room was tidy again, he looked around and let himself swear. It was gone. And the worst part was he couldn't be sure _Terence_ was the one who had it. If so, then no problem, since Terence was dead. But Terence might not be the only one. In fact, Waverly's continual smirking on the helicopter on the ride home suggested he wasn't.

Lee was tempted to go back to the brig and beat it out of Waverly. But Markus had ordered no coercion, and Lee wasn't about to go around that, no matter how useful Waverly's information might be. Markus would never forgive him for interrogating someone against his orders, and certainly not while suffering from someone else's interrogation himself.

Teal'c was standing outside the door to Markus' office, and his gaze was on Lee, as soon as he turned the corner. He gave a polite nod as Lee approached, which did not move his gaze away from Lee or the corridor behind him. "Lee Chen."

"Teal'c. Is Markus in there?" he asked, half-hoping otherwise.

"Indeed." Teal'c opened the door for him and stepped aside to allow him to go inside.

Lee had to square his shoulders and take a deep breath before he went in. Erin and Markus were both standing, although Markus had a white-knuckled grip on his chair. Erin's arms were folded in her usual posture of irritation at someone doing something she thought was foolish. "Hi, Markus. Erin." Lee went to close the door, when Markus' voice, dripping with accusation, made him suddenly freeze.

"Where have you been?"

Lee winced and hastened to explain. "I went to my room. I had to find something. Something I wanted to turn over to you so you would know that I'm on your side. Two somethings, actually." He pulled the page out of his pocket and laid it on the table. "This is the last page from Simon's journal. I razored it out before I gave it to you, after Jeremiah and Kurdy brought it back," he admitted and swallowed hard at the sudden narrowing of Markus' gaze.

Erin murmured, "Oh jeez, Lee …" But he ignored her to watch Markus.

"Why did you do that?" Markus asked, making no movement to approach the page, just looking at Lee.

"Because," he dampened his lips, "it talks about the return of the Big Death, and Valhalla Sector. Simon met a group called the Brothers of the Apocalypse, who are survivors of the first Big Death. They had proof of a child who died from the new strain. I knew --" he took a deep breath and forced himself to continue, "I knew if you knew about this, you'd go. You'd want to challenge Valhalla Sector. And it wasn't the right time."

Markus' gaze dropped to the small piece of paper and his voice was quiet and angry. "So you made this decision for me? You withheld information about people dying?"

"Yes. But only because it was dangerous to you," Lee answered, and added hastily, "Well, not just you, but Thunder Mountain in general. Plus Devon didn't want Jeremiah hearing about Valhalla either and he didn't want me to tell you, in case Jeremiah found out." He bit his lip, hoping that Markus believed him. The Brothers themselves were not dangerous, but their information would have been last year. But it seemed that trying to protect Markus hadn't accomplished much, except make Markus angry and suspicious of him.

Lee took a deep breath and looked straight at Markus, hoping he could see how much Lee regretted his deceptions. "I shouldn't have kept it from you."

"No, you shouldn't have," Markus agreed coolly. His gaze shifted away for a long moment, as though he was seeing or hearing something Lee couldn't. It made Lee frown in concern. It wasn't the first time Lee had seen him do it since the rescue, but it was very strange behavior for Markus. Lee was coming to suspect that Simmons had done something to him, something more than the beating and lack of food that his appearance suggested. But then, Lee knew the twisted nature of Simmons' brain and he had a pretty good idea of his capacity for psychological torture that left no physical marks.

Markus gave a little twitch coming back to himself and added, more wearily, "But I suppose this is pretty old news at this point, and it seems ridiculous to get too mad about it right now. And the other thing?" he prompted in resignation. "You said there were two things."

"Simmons gave me Quantrell's master key when I came here," he explained bluntly. "Someone tossed my room after Jeremiah did and the key's gone. I presume Terence took it, but anyone could have it by now."

Markus' eyes widened in horror. "Why the hell didn't you say that first? We might have some new saboteur on the loose and _now_ you're telling me there's another fucking key?" He started for the door and Lee followed, confused. There was another spy? How did Markus know? Shit, he'd missed a lot.

"Markus, wait!" Erin called behind them. Markus stopped, and turned around with an impatient, quizzical face. She opened the drawer in the bottom of the computer terminal and pulled out a small brown book that Lee recognized as Simon's journal. She brought it to the table and opened it. There, glimmering in the light, were two metal keys.

"One's Jack's," she explained. "I found the other on Terence. Sorry, forgot to mention it before."

Lee was closer and picked them up. They looked identical, except for different numbers stamped into them. But he recognized one of the numbers. "This one was mine," he said with a great sense of relief. At least it was found and safe. He handed them to Markus.

Markus regarded Lee's key and let out a breath. "Terence. He was one of us for, what, four years? Biding his time …" He shuddered once and set both keys down back inside the book and closed it, tapping the top. "He probably had it for several days. Huh." Markus shook his head once ruefully and almost chuckled. "We're all still here, so he didn't use it very much. I know if _**I**_had a master key, I would've been able to do a lot more damage than he did."

"Which is why it's a good thing you're not evil," Erin pointed out.

He raised his brows in mock surprise. "Why, thank you. That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in days."

But the humor was short lived. He rubbed his face with both hands, as if trying to wake himself up. Then he lifted his head sharply, and fixed Lee with surprisingly alert eyes. "Okay, before we break up our little party, tell me about these Brothers of the Apocalypse. Are they all survivors?"

"Far as I know," he answered, wondering why Markus was asking. There was no harm in talking about it though, so Lee continued, "Their place is close to Clarefield, so I'm sure Theo knows them too. They have a religious take on the Big Death, believing they were spared to bear witness. They stay huddled in their monastery and do nothing but grow vegetables and make wine, although they were remarkably well informed about Valhalla Sector and the virus."

"Were they scientists?" Markus asked, in puzzled curiosity. "And are the "Brothers" all men?"

Lee shrugged. "I've got no idea what any of them did before. I didn't see any women, but then I only met Brother Clarence. I never made it past the front gate."

Markus thought it over, nodded once and waved one hand a little to say it didn't matter. "I'll ask Theo tomorrow."

Erin cut in, "Now this is all very interesting, I'm sure. But I for one, am so tired I can barely think, and I know _you_ are much worse than you're letting on. C'mon, sleep."

Markus' gaze flickered away and his expression turned aggravated. "You're all ganging up on me," he muttered and rubbed his forehead.

"I didn't say --" Lee objected defensively.

"Not you," Markus said and raised his head again to fix Lee with a bit of a frown as he searched Lee's face. "I'm not sure where we are," he admitted, and Lee winced. But Markus wasn't done. "I'm still angry you kept so much from me. But I do trust you with my life. And that's a good place to start, I think."

"Yes, yes, it is," Lee agreed, a relieved smile breaking across his face as the heavy weight that had fallen across him was finally lifted away.

\---+---

Teal'c was still trailing him. Markus had tried to get the Jaffa to go seek his own rest, explaining about the locked-down area of the base. Teal'c had politely, but firmly, refused to get lost.

But finally at the door to Meaghan's room, he turned around. "This is where we part ways. I appreciate that you're concerned for my safety, but this is _my_ place. I'm going to sleep here, and lock the door behind me, so there's no need to stay."

Malek objected in his head, '_No, we are not sleeping here. A chair is not a bed._'

Teal'c nodded once and did not object, although he didn't start walking away either. "Sleep well, Markus Alexander."

Markus opened the door. Meaghan's half of the room was still lit -- she hadn't gone to bed yet. A few steps brought him in far enough to see her.

She was sitting in her armchair, but rose the instant she looked toward the door and realized it was him. Her large hazel eyes brightened and she smiled widely in relief, reaching out to put her hand flush against the glass.

"Markus! You're back!"

For a moment he could only stare at her, but inside he was suddenly bursting with feelings, all tangled together so strongly he could barely breathe -- love, fear, relief, hope, and despair. He realized with something akin to shock that he had nearly died for her. And he would do it again, if he had to.

"Meaghan …" it was barely a whisper. His feet brought him to the window, and his hand automatically lifted to match hers through the glass.

"You're home," she murmured, resting her forehead and then her cheek against the window, as if she was putting her head on his shoulder. "I wasn't sure … I was so afraid. Yesterday, I felt … I was so _sure_ that you were dying," she whispered.

"I was," he answered.

But Malek broke in sharply, '_No. Please, Markus. Do not go there, not right now. You are tired, and it'll be hard enough to explain my presence when you are thinking more clearly.'_

Her head lifted and she frowned. "What?"

Malek had a good point. He wanted to tell her about the symbiote and how he could cure her, but if he explained badly, she might be afraid of him. Or not believe him. He had to lay the groundwork first. So he changed what he meant to say. "There was a kangaroo court," he started and still had to shut his eyes at the memory. "They sentenced me to die. By fire." She made a soft, horrified sound in her throat, but he didn't look at her to see her face. "If I hadn't escaped today, they might have done it tonight."

"Oh my God," she whispered. "What else did they do, Markus?" He shook his head, unwilling to answer.

"Markus, look at me," she requested, and he did. "They did more," she said. It was not a question. "I can see it in your eyes. They hurt you."

At first he didn't -- couldn't -- answer, as if by pretending nothing had happened, nothing really had happened. But with her he was honest. So he gave a short nod, and pushed up his sleeve to show her. "They wanted to know about the mountain. About you."

The words, which started out so painfully slowly, were coming faster and faster. "And I couldn't tell them. I couldn't risk it. I was so afraid I'd slip and say something," he confessed. "And then this place would be destroyed, everyone would die, and they'd take you away, like a lab rat … I kept having the dream," he told her and she nodded her understanding. She knew all about the dream. It had changed over the years, but two things were always the same: everyone in the mountain was dead and it was his fault.

Malek murmured mentally with a feeling of shock, as he realized what Markus had been hiding from him, '_You provoked John deliberately. That was why you said dying was always in your power.'_

Markus let his feeling of acknowledgment speak for itself. He was too tired to pretend. "I couldn't let it happen," he finished in a whisper aloud, slumping into his chair, as all of his spiraling emotions drained out of him, leaving him hollow and fragile. "I couldn't …"

"You didn't," she reassured him softly. "We're both safe. It's over. And you won, Markus. I know it doesn't feel that way, especially when you're still in pain and exhausted. But you won. They won't be hurting you or anyone else again."

He closed his eyes and let his head fall to the back of his chair, unable to keep it up any more. He murmured, "They're still coming here. Valhalla Sector's in friendly hands, but hundreds, maybe thousands, of them are still out there. And I know they're coming here."

All he'd wanted was to make friends, to try to patch some sort of organization and civilization out of the scattered remnants of the world. But he'd found enemies instead. His dream of peace was becoming a war.

Malek murmured soothingly, '_The light remains, Markus. You will see it in the morning. Rest now.'_

Whether it was something Malek did, or Markus' own fatigue, he barely heard Meaghan call his name softly before he fell asleep.

It felt like only a few minutes later that Markus felt himself yanked awake. His first instinct was to roll into a ball and let unconsciousness take him again, until he realized he couldn't move. Was he strapped down? Still a prisoner? Was Simmons next to him, with his dark eyes looking for weakness?

'_Easy Markus. You are well_. _I am talking to Jolinar_.'

And he was. Markus realized that he was sitting on a cot that shouldn't be there, in Meaghan's room. He had the communication device in his hand talking softly to a woman at the other end. Yet he had no command over his body or voice. He could only think.

"You have the naquadah?" Malek was saying.

"Yes. We are returning and should be close to you in four hours," she answered. They were both speaking in their "human" voices, and somehow that was worse, knowing that was how he sounded but without his consciousness directing his words. If Malek pretended to be him, would anyone really be able to tell? What if he was stuck like this, helpless in his own body?

'_I am not Goa'uld,'_ Malek said, a tinge of annoyance in him, which moderated to reassuring when he realized that Markus was very close to panic. '_Please, Markus, you know I would never force you to be a prisoner in your own body. That is abhorrent to us. I didn't intend for you to wake at all, I am sorry. But she called and I needed to answer. It will be only a minute more, I promise.'_

Markus tried to push away the fear, feeling a little foolish. They were supposed to share after all, which meant that Malek should have his turn too. '_No, that's okay. Take your time.' _Malek sent him a feeling of gratitude and when he continued to speak to the other Tok'ra, Markus tuned out the rest of the conversation. He was glad the other Tok'ra were bringing the strange power source that would enable Sam to build her generator. Then they would leave. He knew he had no right to keep them here, but he didn't want them to go. They had so much experience and knowledge that he needed to help him fight and to clean up the aftermath.

Malek finished his conversation and put the locket back under his shirt. Deliberately he moved aside for Markus to take control of his body again. It was a relief to move his hands and grip his knees because _he_ willed it, and not the symbiote.

Malek said, '_You are growing concerned for no reason. I am here to help you. Jolinar and Lantash will be here soon. They will need to be met and escorted inside. May I suggest Jeremiah and Kurdy, since they are the only two that will recognize them?_'

'_I can't have them leave the Mountain to meet up with your friends. How could I explain knowing about it? No, we'll have to think of something else._'

"Markus? Are you okay?" Meaghan called sleepily from inside her glass prison.

Markus bowed his head. He must have fallen asleep while still talking to Meaghan.

'_You did. The Jaffa brought the cot and made us comfortable_._You did not close the door._'

'_I didn't? God.' _He bumped his forehead lightly with his clasped hands. Careless. Unforgivably careless. At least it had been Teal'c and not someone else. '_Did she see him?'_

'_Yes, I saw him bow to her very formally,'_ the Tok'ra answered. '_She seemed bemused, not alarmed. To answer your next question, she was certainly asleep when I answered Jolinar.'_

"Markus?" she called again.

He returned to the window. "Yes. I'm here. Just a bit disoriented. What time is it?"

"Ten after five. You still look exhausted. Why don't you go back to your own room and sleep some more?" she suggested.

"But there's so much to do …" Thinking of everything on his plate was enough to make him feel like he hadn't slept at all.

'_We have four hours until Jolinar and Lantash arrive_,' Malek silently reminded him. '_Some of that should be spent resting.'_

"Markus, you passed out earlier. You keep this up and you'll end up in the infirmary," she chided. "Or worse."

He rested his forehead on the glass wall. She put her hand up and caressed the area where his head touched. He imagined the feel of her fingers on his hair and closed his eyes. Her voice softened, so he heard it more through the vibrations in the window itself than the speakers, "You need to take care of yourself. It's not selfish to eat and rest. You give enough, Markus. You can't give everything."

"I know."

"Good. Then go to bed. Hurry, before anyone sees you're awake."

Markus gave her a weak smile. "I'll be back later."

"Only if you have time. Now that you're back and I've seen you, do what you need to do."

With a final good bye, Markus left her room. Teal'c was seated cross-legged on the floor outside, his eyes closed. Stepping around the larger man, Markus continued down the hall, but shortly Teal'c was silently walking behind him.

"You don't need to do this," Markus told him.

"I do. This is one of the most dangerous times to be alone. Not many have arisen and the halls are empty."

Markus couldn't argue that. Instead, he realized he was hungry. Maybe a trip to the kitchens and some food was more important than sleep. Malek said nothing. Was he asleep? Did these symbiotes sleep when the hosts were awake? It was something he'd have to remember to ask another time.

The kitchen was starting breakfast. Natalie, who oversaw the morning shift and had a maternal streak in her a mile wide, brought him a plate with two rolls, still warm from the oven, and a generous amount of butter, saying he looked too thin. Markus thanked her and went to look at the fruit choices. He bypassed the basket of apples, knowing he probably wasn't going to be able to taste apples for weeks to come, and settled on canned peaches. Coffee was tempting, but he wouldn't be able to sleep if he had any.

He sat at a bench, facing the Stargate. Teal'c remained on guard by the big blast doors.

'_The chappa'ai is your true Achilles Heel_,' Malek murmured. '_You have no idea of the kind of beings that would terrorize this world if they only knew the portal was open again_.'

"Daniel called them Goa'ulds," Markus said aloud. "And they're evil."

"You're not shitting me," a voice said from behind him.

Markus turned around to meet Jeremiah's haunted eyes. "Can't sleep?" he asked.

"Nope. I dream. I hate dreams," he added vehemently.

"Of your father?" Markus asked gently.

"He's in there. But mostly it's Seth. Remember him?"

Markus felt his whole body stiffen in shock. Malek took over. "Tell me about the encounter."

Jeremiah looked at him quickly, probably thinking his choice of words was off. They were. But Markus let Malek have his way, since there was no choice. The Tok'ra was deeply disturbed.

Jeremiah slumped into the opposite bench, grabbed one of the buttered halves of Markus' bread and started to tear it into methodical little chunks. "Well, that's where we were when Valhalla swooped down and took you hostage. Sam and I entered his compound."

"And?" Malek prompted, when Jeremiah was reluctant to say more. "What did he do to you?"

"This stuff -- nishda, Sam called it. He sprayed it into my face and it made me want to worship him. I couldn't think. I lost myself in the need to be with him, protect him and do whatever he told me to." He shivered.

Markus could feel the revulsion within Malek. '_Nish'ta. This planet is in more danger than I had realized_.'

"How were you freed?" Malek asked.

"Sam and Jack knew a lot about him. They shot me with that gun they have, a zat, to get me free of the drug. Now I can't sleep without Seth showing up and my father under the influence of the stuff. I can't get him out. And through it all, I want to be back with Seth. I want to do whatever he tells me to. I can't sleep anymore." His voice broke and he clutched his head in his hands. "Fuck."

Markus nudged Malek aside to speak. "Jeremiah. I give you my word, after we see the four visitors get home, and we get Valhalla off our backs, the first thing we do is hunt down Seth and kill him."

Jeremiah jerked his head back up, his gaze wild and desperate. "But you can't go up against this nishda stuff, Markus. You have to understand: I had no idea what I was doing. I couldn't even _think_ it was wrong or stupid, while I was whammied by that shit. I just_wanted_ to … to do whatever he wanted."

"Sam and Jack freed you. What they did, will work with anyone."

Jeremiah shook his head several times in adamant refusal. "No, you don't get it. Seth's got hundreds of men. I don't think they're all drugged, but they're all fanatics. And one whiff of that crap makes our people turn into their people. We can't fight that."

"Of course we can," Markus answered calmly. He wasn't going to sit here and feed Jeremiah's fears. It wasn't going to be easy, but hell, _nothing_ he wanted to do was going to be easy. "First, by not getting into that position in the first place, and second, by having the right weapons to stop it when it does happen. Then we bring him down. The Goa'uld may live a long time, but they can be killed. And I'm certainly not going to roll over and play dead for an alien with delusions of godhood."

Jeremiah finally nodded and looked a tiny bit more relaxed. "No, me neither. But don't take him lightly."

"I don't. Believe me." Markus considered whether to tell Jeremiah about their new alliance with the Tok'ra, but was uncertain whether it would help. He was already freaked out, and that fear could easily turn against himself and Malek and the Tok'ra as a whole.

'_He appeared friendly with Lantash,'_ Malek said, '_Surely that will work in our favor.'_

_'Maybe.'_ But Jeremiah had never known Lantash existed, any more than he realized Malek was in front of him. So Markus decided to do as he usually did around Jeremiah, and defer the truth, because Jeremiah in a furor over being lied to was still better than Jeremiah jumping to panicked conclusions.

But it occurred to him that he could kill two birds with one stone: give Jeremiah something to do and get the other Tok'ra inside. He'd planned to use Kurdy but it would work with Jeremiah too. "I understand how tired you are, but if you aren't going to sleep, I'd like you help out with some camera watching, if you could? It shouldn't be too strenuous," he was quick to add. "I'm afraid the remnants of Valhalla are out there, ready to attack us. I have people down at Fort Carson, so I'm not looking for you to warn me about an army, just if someone comes poking around the perimeter, scouting our entrances. Can you do it?"

"Sure. You think they'd have the nerve to attack us after we kicked their ass?"

"Nerve is not something they're short of," Markus commented wryly. "Anyway, thanks. The monitor room's right next to the comm room." He looked down at his plate, and noticed all his food was gone. '_You did it again. Is this going to be a habit_?'

'_I did nothing. You are the one who ate without knowing. I sat back and enjoyed the prospect of a full stomach_.'

Markus couldn't help a yawn. '_Damn, am I tired_.' Aloud, he said, "Sorry, Jeremiah. I think I'm gonna head back to my room and catch a few more hours of sleep before the horde descends. Thanks for keeping an eye out."

"Later, Markus."

Markus left Jeremiah, feeling helpless. The other man needed sleep just as badly, but was refusing to leave himself open to his nightmares.

'_He will have to deal with them, as we all do_.'

'_You have nightmares, too_?' Markus asked, not having considered that before.

'_Yes. The Goa'uld are even more evil than Simmons and John. They will torture you to death, revive you in the sarcophagus and do it repeatedly. Death is nothing but an __ending of a session_.'

'_I didn't need to know that right before going to sleep.'_

Markus opened the door to his room, and barely got his shoes off before he fell into bed and was out.

Teal'c kept a silent vigil outside his room, as the mountain began to stir.


	35. Chapter 35

**March 26, 2004 **

After a very long, very warm shower, Theo went in search of breakfast and maybe someone who'd know if Markus was in any condition to have visitors. She'd intended to meet him last night, but beauty sleep was too important. The cafeteria was busy, but she didn't know too many people who were there.

But she did know one. Theo's lip curled as she spied the blonde bimbo Susan approaching. She'd been one of the bitches whining at Millhaven.

Susan saw her too and gave her a toothy grin. "Hi! I didn't realize you were inside."

Theo put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, I know people. Why are you here?"

Those big eyes really were less intelligent then a cow's, Theo thought, as Susan completely missed the hostility. She blinked, trying to look sad. "I'm here with Kevin. He was shot, you know. They aren't sure he's going to make it," she said, lip quivering.

Theo was going to ask who Kevin was and decided she didn't care. The slut had found a man while imprisoned, big deal. "Oh. Too bad. I'm going to grab something to eat." And find someone with a little brainpower to ask about what was going on in the mountain, but she didn't say that part aloud.

Moving to the serving line, she turned to watch Susan go. Two girls from the mountain were chatting by the wall but stopped to escort Susan out. It gave Theo warm satisfaction to realize that Susan was under guard, but she was not.

Theo managed to corner one of Markus' people who'd been in Millhaven too, and got him to tell her that Markus was in his office.

She savored each bite, and glanced up at the lit windows of the office. Every so often the light and shadow shifted with movement, but she couldn't see any people. She finished her food, without anyone coming to find her, and decided to go up to the lion's den. It was time they talked.

There were two guys in the corridor outside Markus' open door. Guards. That was new. She eyed them when they made no move to let her in and put her hands on her hips. "Honey, I'd get out of Theo's way if I was you. I got an appointment."

Lee appeared in the doorway. "Theo. Markus said you could come in." He beckoned her in.

She smiled sweetly at the guards as she went past.

She certainly wasn't the first visitor this morning. Markus and Erin were sitting at the center table, which was covered by papers. Andrew and Raymond were standing against the bookshelves. That fine-looking Daniel was trying to be unobtrusive on the couch, but even he couldn't hold her attention.

Markus looked a lot better than she had imagined, though paler than a white boy should be . He was giving orders and hadn't noticed her yet. "Raymond, I need you to check the arms lockers here. Not a full inventory, but take a couple of people and look. We need to know if Terence, or anybody else, tampered with things. Andrew, keep on top of our visitors. They were loose all day yesterday, and I don't want it to happen again. Nobody goes off level twenty-one without an escort."

Andrew nodded, "Got it." He turned to go and saw her there, freezing in place and his face twisting in anger. She sneered back at him. His brother had tried to frame her for theft -- as part of a power play against Markus no less -- and as far as she was concerned, he and his brother had got what they deserved. The fact that Andrew was still apparently on Markus' favored list didn't change anything.

She brushed past him without a word and posed with a hand on her hip, when Markus saw her. "Good morning," she greeted him breezily. "I hear Valhalla Sector is gone, thanks to you."

"No thanks to me, but yes, their base is in friendly hands. There's still a whole bunch of them out there, someplace though." He grimaced, and absently rubbed his wrist beneath his shirt cuff. Then he gestured toward the chair opposite Erin. "Have a seat, Theo. Let me finish here, and we can talk."

Erin gave her a distracted smile of greeting, but looked back to Markus as he started talking to her. "We know that West's not talking to us or to Charlie, and I'm starting to doubt he's even in Millhaven. Send a few more scouts out east and south, including Danbury, and have a look around. That many men can't just disappear. Someone's seen them."

She nodded and got to her feet. "Yeah. Them, or their machines. I'll be back later."

After she was gone, Daniel leaned forward and folded his hands together. "And what about us?" Daniel asked. "I know Sam's started building the generator, but when Jack and Teal'c come down, what can we do?"

Markus considered for a moment. "You all know the base's layout pretty well, I assume?" At Daniel's nod, he continued, "Then I'd like you and Lee to go through the security situation. Just make sure we're as covered as possible."

Daniel nodded. "Sure. They've run all kinds of drills and defended actual attacks on the base. They know the weak points. No problem." He hesitated and didn't get up, though it seemed Markus was done with him. He looked troubled by something. He said, "I heard Andrew ask earlier, but you didn't answer. Have you thought about what to do with Waverly?"

Markus chuckled once, dryly. "That seems to be a popular question this morning. Lee asked, Erin asked, Raymond, even Charlie … Everyone's so concerned about my mental state, trying to _**save**_ me from dealing with him," that was sent sourly in Lee's direction. "The answer is, I haven't decided yet. I know what I _**want**_ to do and I know what would be practical, but I haven't decided if that's what I _**should**_ do or not." He leaned back in his chair and looked at Daniel. "Your advice?"

Daniel shrugged, uncomfortable to be put on the spot. "To be careful. I told Emerson that he should avoid the Joan of Arc parallel with you, and it's probably smart to keep Waverly from becoming a martyr too."

Theo butted in the conversation, not liking where this was going. "Waverly was the big, high son of a bitch at Valhalla Sector right? Trust me when I say no one's gonna miss his weaselly ass. Kill him and be done with it. He's a threat to you while he lives. If you don't want to," she glanced at Markus and gave a tight, vicious smile, "I'd be happy to take him off your hands and see it done."

"You too, hm?" Markus said, and his lips twitched in a near smile.

"We know you don't want to order his death, Markus," Lee said, coming over to stand behind Erin's empty chair. "You don't have to. Let others take care of it."

"Order his death?" Daniel repeated and lifted his chin to meet Lee's eyes in challenge, but his words were for Markus, "Is that the precedent you want? Waverly's no innocent, and I know that, and I'm not saying that in the end it's not what should happen. Just be careful that your justice doesn't look more like vengeance, or the arbitrary whim of a would-be conqueror."

Markus' eyes slid away and he frowned vaguely for a moment, like he was listening to something. He shut his eyes, looking pained, like he had a headache, but his expression cleared when he opened his eyes again. "I know, but others have strong feelings too," Markus said. Daniel gave him back a look of commiseration. Markus went on, "But in any case, I'm not deciding his fate today. I'd like to talk to Theo for now. In private."

Daniel stood up, accepting the dismissal with a nod, but Lee wasn't as willing to go away. He looked reluctant, biting his lip, complaining, "Markus…"

Markus looked at her. "Theo's not going to kill me. Are you?" he asked her.

She pretended to think about it then shook her head. "Not today."

"All settled then," Markus pronounced and waved everyone out. "And close the door behind you," he told Lee, who was the last to go.

When the two of them were alone, Theo raised her eyebrows at him. "Taking a chance, aren't you? You're alone and defenseless."

He didn't get nervous at her half-serious threat, and she was relieved and even sort of proud that he trusted her that much. A small smile hovered on his lips. "Not as much as you might think." But the amusement faded away as he looked at her for a moment. "I'm glad you're okay."

She guessed the answer to the question she'd intended to ask him, from the look on his face, but asked anyway, "They showed you my performance, didn't they?"

His lips flattened and he glanced away, confirming it without words. The bastards.

When his gaze came back to her, he said with forced lightness, "Yeah. Some of it anyway. It's too bad they're not giving out awards anymore. You'd be a shoe-in for your portrayal of a pissed-off hellcat."

She snorted. "No acting required for that."

"I'm sure," he said and fell quiet, eyes distant and shadowed.

"But you got no call to get all sensitive about it," she told him sharply. "Theo volunteered her own self to get outta that hellhole and look around. Wasn't anything to do with you."

"Still," he persisted, "I could've stopped them. I chose not to, and I'd make the same choice again. But if they'd killed you …"

"Then I'd be dead," Theo cut in. "But my ghost would haunt your ass if you caved in for little ole me."

His lips quirked in a fleeting smile, and she was glad to see it. He took a deep breath and let it go. Leaning back in his chair, he changed the subject. "I've got a question for you. What do you know about the Brothers of the Apocalypse?"

The question was not even close to anything she'd expected. "Them?" she said blankly. "What for?"

"They want to meet with me," he answered. "I'd like to know who they are first."

"They want to meet you?" she repeated. That was weird. "Really? They don't like strangers." At his frown of concern, she added, "They keep to themselves. Trade the stuff they grow, through an outsider. I never heard they hurt anybody, but they ain't real friendly."

He frowned thoughtfully. "Have you met one?"

She shook her head. "Nope. They sent me a case of very nice wine each year to keep it that way." She smacked her lips, just thinking about it. She'd only drunk a few bottles herself, but they were real nice. Then she shrugged. "I thought it was suspicious, but since I don't like people poking in my biz, no reason I should poke in theirs. They leave me alone, I leave them alone. We get along."

"Good," he nodded once as if that settled some question in his mind.

She stared at him, unable to believe it. "You're not planning on going there, are you? What the hell for? Did you like getting tied up _**that**_ much? Cuz honey, I can get you people who'll do that for you, if that's how you get your kicks."

He shifted in his chair, mouth tightening in discomfort, but also unwillingly amused by her suggestion. "I can find my own entertainment, thanks."

"Well, you better. All work and no play makes Markus cranky and annoying," she teased. But she realized they'd gotten away from the point. "You're really going?"

He shrugged, and looked away, toward the window and the top of the great big stone ring past it. "Not until I know that Valhalla Sector's troops aren't in between. But yes, I need to talk to them."

"And you can't send one of these fine, upstanding followers of yours?" she waved a hand upward, thinking of the hundreds, maybe thousand people in the mountain.

"Well … no."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Markus, Theo's gonna give you a piece of advice: let other people do for you, or this whole grand plan of yours is gonna fall over and die the same day as you. Which ain't gonna be too long if you keep being so dumb. And get more sleep, you look like shit."

"Yes, Mom." His sarcastic retort was half-hearted, and hardly worthy of a response. He could do better than that, which told her she was right. He was still hurting and tired.

But before she could snap something back, there was a knock on the door and that tall chick Sarah poked her head in. "Markus -- oh, hi Theo," she added with a bright smile when she saw who else was there, "sorry to interrupt, but Nathan's on the comm wanting to talk to you if you've got a moment."

"Sure," he answered and got to his feet. "Be right there. Sorry, Theo. I've got to go."

She waved a hand in good-bye and watched him follow after Sarah.

He didn't get it yet, but he would. At this moment, what was left of the country sat in the palm of his hand. He was going to have to either clench his fist to keep the power to himself or start passing it around, or there was gonna be trouble, even among his followers.

That was the lesson she'd learned in Clarefield: power was hard to take, and even harder to keep. He'd already nearly let it out of his grip once, and that was before Valhalla Sector had fallen in his lap. And now? He'd better be careful, because she already heard the footsteps of the people coming up behind him to take his place.

She smiled to herself, a little ferally.

Of course, they'd have to get past her first.

\---+---

Kurdy stopped in the corridor, trying to get his words in order before he opened the door. Jeremiah had been nowhere to be found since Markus gave him the bad news. But this morning Markus had told him that Jeremiah should be here, watching the monitors that showed the external camera views. The assignment was mostly to give Jeremiah something to do.

Putting his hand on the doorknob, Kurdy wondered what he was supposed to say. He barely remembered his own parents, so it wasn't like he could sympathize all that much. But Jeremiah was his friend, and so he'd have to do what he could.

He opened the door and went in. The room was small, with two chairs facing eight monitors. Only five of the monitors had pictures: two showed different angles of the entrance to the mountain, another was focused at the road itself on approach, and the fourth and fifth showed closed hatchways somewhere in the forest around the mountain.

Jeremiah was sitting in one of the chairs, but turned when he heard the door. Kurdy nearly took a step back in shock. Jeremiah hadn't looked great last night, but this morning he looked worse, with blood-shot, haunted eyes and a pinched, gray face.

"Hey, man," Kurdy said, biting his lip against the urge to tell Jeremiah how awful he looked. "How you doin'?"

Jeremiah shrugged and turned away to look at the monitors, like he was really keeping watch on the empty roads, or at least avoiding Kurdy. "My mom's been dead for fifteen years," he said. "Funny how I always felt that, but now I know, it still feels like it just happened."

Kurdy moved into the room to stand next to him, holding on to the back of the other chair. "You read the letter?"

Jeremiah nodded and his shoulders slumped, looking bony under his loose sweater. "Yeah. I don't know if it makes it better or worse. I know what happened to them, but --" he shrugged again. "There's no point now, since they're both dead."

"At least you know," Kurdy said.

Jeremiah ignored him. "But you know what pisses me off? Daniel and Jack got to meet my dad. _**Markus**_ got to meet him. All these people who didn't care, who saw him as some Valhalla Sector bad guy, got to see him. And then they let him die."

Kurdy inhaled a sharp breath and let it out again slowly. Jeremiah didn't need him arguing, but at the same time he didn't want Jeremiah to start resenting Markus and the visitors. He knew Jeremiah could hold a grudge like nobody's business. He started carefully, "You got a raw deal, Jeremiah, no question. It sucks that you couldn't see your dad again after finding out he was still alive. But don't shoot the messenger, man, blaming Markus and Jack when they tried their best."

"It wasn't good enough," Jeremiah snapped.

"No, I guess not. But they tried. The fuckers at Valhalla Sector were the ones who killed him. The same fuckers who are still out there," Kurdy pointed to the screen showing the road, "coming after us. They're the ones who deserve your anger and whatever vengeance you wanna dish out, not Jack or Daniel, and sure as hell not Markus."

Because Kurdy had seen Markus last night and he knew some bad shit had happened in Valhalla Sector. He shouldn't have to deal with Jeremiah too, when Devon's death wasn't his fault.

"I know," Jeremiah admitted after a moment. "I wish I'd been there, y'know? Even if it woulda made things worse -- at least I could've talked to him. Seen him. And now … it's not gonna happen."

"No." Kurdy pulled out the chair and sat down. The gray vinyl padding was torn and ragged, but the chair wasn't that bad -- it had arms and wheels which squeaked in protest when he tried to roll backward.

"And then there's that other thing," Jeremiah continued after a few minutes of silence. Kurdy just waited, sure that Jeremiah would spill it eventually.

"Seth," he said, in a low, troubled voice.

"The goold?" Kurdy asked.

Jeremiah frowned at him. "How'd you know?"

"Daniel talked about them on the way to St. Louis," Kurdy explained. "About these evil space aliens. I can't believe you actually went to see him -- on purpose. Did he take you prisoner?"

"He fucked with my head." Jeremiah stared blankly at the screens as he spoke. "I wasn't even **me** anymore. Just his -- his dog, or something. I remember it actually hurt when Sam pulled me away. I've been on my own all these years, I thought I was pretty tough, and he made me into a puppet like that." He snapped his fingers.

Kurdy didn't know what to say. It seemed hardly possible that someone could do that to Jeremiah, but it had happened. "Aliens," he muttered. "People dropping in from alternate universes. I've read about that stuff, I remember it on TV, but I never once imagined I'd actually _**see**_ it. Weird freaky shit, man."

Jeremiah snorted, sounding as though he might be a little amused. "Never thought I'd live to see most of the world die, either, but that happened. God has it in for us, that's all."

"Yeah." Kurdy sat back and watched the monitors for a moment, letting the silence fall between them. His gaze passed over the different monitors and halted on the one showing the farthest view of the entrance road. "Hey, look. Someone's coming." He leaned forward, as if that was going to help, but all he could tell was that it was two people walking, openly, toward the entrance.

Jeremiah pulled his chair closer so he could watch too. After a moment, he grunted. "I think that's Marty."

Kurdy was amazed he could tell that, but then he had barely seen the guy during the escape. But after a moment he realized that Jeremiah was likely right, since the other person was Jo-Lynn. "And look, he brought his girlfriend. Wonder what they want?"

"I'm guessing they want in," Jeremiah answered, dryly. "You gotta go find somebody to let them in. Far as I know, only Erin or Sam has the code to open the door. Probably Markus, by now. I'll stay here and keep an eye on them."

Kurdy agreed without argument, since he doubted Jeremiah had much strength to go wandering downstairs. "All right, don't stress yourself out. Be back soon."

With a glance back over his shoulder at Jeremiah, Kurdy left. Jeremiah was being sarcastic, but what was Jo-Lynn doing here? How had they even found the mountain? Though it was entirely possible that Elizabeth had told her everything and he just didn't remember. His memories of Millhaven were a bit fuzzy.

Feeling very troubled, he went down to Markus' office. The guys in the hall let him pass without a hassle and he rapped on the doorframe as he entered. Erin and Markus were both there, sitting at the small round table, but broke off their conversation.

"Kurdy?" Markus glanced up at him, frowning. "I thought you were helping Jeremiah."

"I am, I did. We've got visitors," he announced. Erin tensed, though Markus didn't seem to react. But then, Kurdy had noticed Markus didn't often show surprise anyway.

"How many?" Erin demanded.

"Only two," Kurdy hastened to tell her, before they thought they were under attack by West's army. "And we know them. It's Marty and Jo-Lynn."

"Marty and Jo-Lynn?" Markus repeated and snickered, strangely amused by the names, and then cleared his throat. "Yes, anyway. They're coming here?"

"They're right outside. Probably at the doors by now. But I was thinking, maybe all that help they gave us was a set up. To get inside," he said, frowning, more convinced that it was a bad idea.

"That seems hard to believe," Markus said, trying to dismiss the concern.

"No, really," Kurdy insisted. "She sat right next to Theo and Elizabeth in St. Louis. She could've known they were connected to this place. And when we were in Millhaven, she asked a whole lot of questions about you and the mountain."

"We shouldn't let them in," Erin suggested. "If we have any doubts at all."

"No," Markus said, disagreeing with her. "It doesn't make any sense. If Marty was part of Valhalla Sector he'd never have let Jeremiah go. I know how much they wanted him." As his gaze slipped down to the desk, his shoulders twitched under his sweater and the paper in his hand shook once, until he put it down and got to his feet. "I want to know what they want and how they found us. Bring them to the conference room on three. Guards, but no cuffs. Let's not be unfriendly."

"You're sure?" Erin asked. When he nodded, she said, "Okay. If that's what you want." She left to see to it.

Markus walked over to the computer station, leaned against it, and looked through the window toward the Stargate.

"You okay?" Kurdy asked in concern. Not that he thought Markus would give him a true answer, but he wanted to let him know that he was there to help.

Markus didn't answer at all. He asked instead, without turning from the window, "Elizabeth wasn't hurt, was she?"

"Not at all," Kurdy confirmed.

"Good." Markus fell quiet and Kurdy didn't know how to break it. Again he felt out of his depth, and all the words he thought about saying seemed so trivial.

Markus broke the silence himself. "I'm going upstairs to talk to our visitors. Why don't you get back to Jeremiah, and see if he'll sleep yet?"

"I thought you'd want me to come with you to meet with Jo-Lynn?" Kurdy asked, somewhat taken aback.

"There'll be plenty of time," Markus said. "I'm concerned about Jeremiah. He's had a rough time."

"You don't want us to watch the monitors anymore?" Kurdy asked, suddenly skeptical. "What if Valhalla really does come scouting?"

"I'll send someone else. I don't want Jeremiah pushing himself to collapse over something that isn't that useful. He can talk to Marty later, if he wants."

There was more going on than Markus was telling, Kurdy knew. But he decided not to push for more right now and went to do as Markus asked without complaint.

\---+---

The large double doors in front of them were impressive, Jolinar thought, standing well back with her mate as the concrete doors slowly parted with a heavy grinding noise. They were two meters thick and reinforced with steel rods. The guns on a Death Glider would not penetrate, though an al'kesh missile would likely succeed.

'_Are we planning to attack?'_ Rosha teased her.

Jolinar answered, '_Know the weaknesses of any place you may be confined.'_ But despite her pedantic tone, she was amused and Rosha knew it. It was reflex now, to determine the strength of any place she was entering.

The doors stopped, leaving a crack wide enough for one person to enter.

"I believe we may go in," Martouf said and took the lead. Jolinar followed. Past the light coming in from outside, it seemed very dark, but her eyes adjusted quickly.

Her eyes widened in surprise. If this space was used only for vehicle parking and maintenance, the rest of the base was likely quite large. Was the entire mountain hollow? Definitely impressive.

Five people were standing in the middle of the garage and the two Tok'ra went to meet them. There were three men and two women, and everyone but the woman in the middle carried a gun. They weren't aiming at the Tok'ra, Jolinar was glad to see.

"I'm Erin," the blonde woman without the gun introduced herself. Apparently she was the one with rank.

"Martouf," he said and amended, "Marty, as Jeremiah would have it. And this is Jo-Lynn," he took her hand and brought her close to him. "We've come to speak to Markus Alexander." He smiled brightly at her and Erin couldn't help smiling back or gazing into his eyes.

'_Should we be jealous?'_ Rosha asked, half-seriously.

'_And we do not have the same reaction when he smiles at us?'_ Jolinar returned. '_It is difficult to resist Martouf when he is being deliberately charming.'_

Erin blinked and cleared her throat, turning a little pink at the realization she'd been staring. "Uh, right. He's asked me to bring you inside. We'll need to look through your packs and hold any weapons or transmitters. You can have them back when you leave."

Glad that Malek had warned them to leave their zat'nik'tels in the tel'tak, Jolinar shrugged off her pack and put it on the floor. The other woman approached and efficiently rifled through it, finding, of course, the large plastic box that held the naquadah. "What's in here?" she asked, after trying unsuccessfully to open it.

Jolinar knelt and put her hand on the box, lifting the lid. Nestled inside was a clear cylinder that faintly glowed green.

"What the hell is that?" Erin came closer, to look over the other woman's shoulder.

"This is our gift to Markus," Rosha said and met Erin's eyes. "It will prove our good intentions."

"But what is it?"

"Something he requested," Martouf answered and he smiled at her again. This time, though, she was not impressed, and barely looked at him.

"Lisa, you keep a hold of it," she said after a moment's hesitation. "You two come with me."

Jolinar shut the box and handed it to Lisa, who took it reluctantly, and stood to follow Erin.

They went through another set of doors to an elevator. There were eleven floors, apparently, though they went down only to three. There, they were ushered into a small conference room and politely urged to sit on the far side of the table.

Sharing a glance with Martouf, who gave a small shrug, they played along and sat down. Lisa put the naquadah on the small table next to the door and stood next to it. The three men spread out against the wall, watching them suspiciously.

"Markus should be here soon," Erin said and folded her arms. "You both helped us, I'm told. I know you helped Jeremiah," she glanced at Martouf and then Jolinar, "And you were inside Millhaven. But I'd like to know how you found our location."

Jolinar answered in Rosha's voice, "We were in Fort Carson yesterday and followed one of the trucks part way up the access road. It seemed logical that it was coming here, so we wanted to investigate."

"I see," Erin answered, and even Jolinar couldn't tell if she believed them or not. But luckily it didn't matter, since the door opened and Markus entered.

'_He looks terrible,'_ Rosha observed sympathetically. Jolinar had to agree, and wondered if Malek was also injured and keeping it from them. Markus should look healthy a full day after blending, not pallid and drawn.

But he was blended, of that there was no doubt. Both because she could sense it and because he was looking at them both with recognition, even though Markus shouldn't have seen Martouf before.

Erin moved aside for him, and he grasped the back of the chair in front of him and greeted them politely, "Welcome to Thunder Mountain. I'm Markus Alexander."

Jolinar was very tempted to use her own voice and disdain this whole farce, but restrained herself. "Jo-Lynn," she said. "And Martouf. Of course, I recognize you from St. Louis. We are both honored to meet you." It was true, at least. She knew Malek, but Markus was in control, and she didn't know him at all.

He nodded slightly. "I wanted to thank you. I saw how you protected Elizabeth, and I'm grateful."

Jolinar inclined her head. "You are welcome."

"They brought this," Erin pointed to the box on the side table. "For you."

Jolinar was not surprised when Markus was able to open the box. He stared at it before smiling a little. "This will be very useful, thank you both for bringing it."

Erin frowned. "You know what it is?"

He closed the box again and set it back on the table. "It's a power source for the artifact in the cafeteria. This is what Sam needs to get it to work again. In fact, would you go get her and the rest of our visitors? They're going to want to talk to our new guests."

Frowning at him and the Tok'ra in puzzlement and concern, Erin reluctantly left.

He got rid of the guards as well, with an order and wave of his hand. None of them were happy to leave him there alone, but they obeyed. She remarked to Rosha, '_No wonder Valhalla Sector wanted him dead.'_

Rosha was amused. '_Poor Malek. Quite a change from quiet Chuan. Like infiltrating Ba'al's inner circle after fifty years undercover with Moloc.'_

The instant the door was closed leaving the three Tok'ra alone in the room, Markus lowered his head. When it lifted again, his eyes flashed and Malek spoke, smiling, "It is good to see you both again."

He leaned across the table to clasp forearms with Martouf first and then her.

"You also," Lantash replied. "Why do you still look so ill, my friend? Are you unwell?"

"We could hardly be in perfect health when these people know Markus was injured and yet keep them ignorant of my presence, could we?" Malek replied.

Jolinar shook her head at him, bemused. "I understand, and yet, I fear the Council was not so appreciative of the delicacy of your situation."

Malek indicated for them both to re-seat themselves, as he took the chair opposite. "You obtained the naquadah, so it could not have been too terrible."

Lantash chuckled. "We convinced them that we needed to return to investigate these visitors from another reality. Selmak gave us the naquadah in secret."

"The council ruled that you may stay, but emphasized it is only a temporary measure, until the situation is more settled here," Jolinar explained.

Malek shook his head once. "I have no intention of leaving in the foreseeable future."

"You are needed, Malek," Jolinar told him, now seriously. "The base on Risa was destroyed, and at least thirty of our people have not been heard from since. There are rumors that Shak'ran has left Ra and now follows a new master. Our numbers are dwindling, and we no longer can afford personal detours, no matter how worthy they might be."

"I am grieved to hear of our losses," he said. "But my mind is unchanged. Markus is needed here more than I am needed there."

Jolinar wanted to sigh.

'_Let me try.'_ Rosha took over and leaned toward Malek, her hands across the table. "Think what you could accomplish together against our enemies. You would still be protecting Earth."

Malek hesitated and Jolinar hoped that maybe Rosha had gotten through to him. But Malek lowered his head and Markus looked up, with an earnest face, and she knew it wasn't going to happen. "Rosha, right? I understand that your people have suffered, and I'm sorry about that. But my people have too, and I need to help them first. Malek is free to leave of course, if he wishes," he paused, and his mouth twitched in a faint smile at some comment of Malek's. But the smile went away, when he declared simply, "But it will be without me."

No negotiation, Jolinar realized. He would not be moved, so there was nothing more to say to try to convince him.

\---+---

At the knock on the open door, Sam looked up, surprised by the interruption. She'd started work on the skeletal frame of the generator only a few hours ago, after getting some sack time. At Erin's suggestion, she'd started work here in this abandoned electronics lab on nineteen, not far from her old lab, located in the part of the base that was closed.

The pieces of the generator and other random bits of equipment were scattered across the bench. Her scavenger hunt had gone well yesterday after coming back from Millhaven. She had found most of what she needed, though the special insulating ceramics were going to be a problem.

Erin was standing in the door. "Hi, Sam. I came to get you. Markus would like you and the rest of your team to meet him upstairs in the level three conference room. Marty and Jo-Lynn are here."

Martouf and Jolinar, her mind automatically translated, and an invisible hand clutched at her insides, tightening until she was holding her breath. They were here.

'_Get a grip, Sam. They don't know you,'_ she reminded herself sharply and made herself breathe. But even so, it didn't help much to ease her sudden anxiety.

Erin was still talking, "… carrying some sort of weird glowy stuff that he says is the power source to the thing downstairs."

Sam chuckled. "It probably is."

"But how would he --" Erin started and then looked at Sam for a long moment. "He's got another secret. That's what this is about."

Sam forced the smile to stay on her face. "It's not as ominous as you're making it sound, Erin. I told him what I needed for the gate."

Erin didn't buy it, but she didn't call Sam on her attempt to gloss over the situation. She pursed her lips, glared sullenly at the opposite wall, and then shrugged. "Well, never mind. It's not like I don't have enough to do anyway. You should go meet them on three. I'm sure you can find the way."

To stop Erin from stomping off angry, Sam said, "Look, Erin, this is about getting me and my friends home, that's all. It's very technical. Markus is trying his best to help us. Please," she hesitated and offered a tentative smile, "don't be mad that you're out of the loop on this? It's just simpler that way."

Erin stopped and her expression became more thoughtful. "And Marty and Jo-Lynn?"

Sam dampened her lips, unsure what she should say. But plainly Erin needed something. "We know them in our reality," she answered. "They're more than they seem. But it's not my secret to tell."

Erin nodded and looked relieved, letting out a long breath. "Thank you, Sam. I won't ask more then, but it's good to know _**something**_. I'm going to find your friends and let them know."

On her way up to level three, Sam hoped she'd done the right thing by giving a hint to Erin. But as soon as the elevator doors opened to the main corridor and she stepped off, the anxiety came back.

Martouf. Jolinar. Lantash. Rosha.

She wasn't sure which of them she was more nervous about meeting again. She'd never known Rosha, except through the few memories left her from Jolinar. But Jolinar … feeling Jolinar's death had been the most traumatic moment of her life. Jolinar had left so many bits and pieces behind, including her intense feelings for Martouf and Lantash, which had left Sam confused about the truth of her own feelings. It still hurt to remember that her hand had been the one to end his life. Finding out that Lantash had survived had helped a little, until he too was gone.

There were several people standing in the hall, including one of the security people she recognized from before. "Hey, Gabriel. Erin told me that Markus was here."

He nodded. "Sure, you can go in."

She knocked on the door to give the Tok'ra warning, and then went in.

They were right in front of her. Like ghosts.

From somewhere far away, she heard Markus say, "Sam Carter. She's the one who knows how to build the naquadah generator. The naquadah's in that box to your left, Sam."

She pulled her eyes away and looked for the box, hoping for a moment to compose herself.

"You know us?" Rosha asked. Her voice was lower-pitched than Sam had expected, but still the same warm tone that she thought she remembered.

"Yes," Sam answered and had to clear her throat. "I'm sorry. It's -- well, there's no good way to put this -- you're both dead in my reality. It's kind of a shock."

"I can well imagine, " Martouf said, his gaze sympathetic. "I think we will not ask you how our alternate selves died. I sense naquadah in you. Were you a host? Is that how you learned of the Tok'ra originally?"

"Yes," Sam answered. "My symbiote … gave her life for mine." She fixed her gaze on Martouf, so she wouldn't give anything away to Jolinar. "It was brief, but I had enough memories to be able to seek them out. Shortly afterward, my father became host to Selmak and he's been acting as a sort of ambassador between the Tau'ri and the Tok'ra."

Martouf and Jolinar shared a look that made Sam ache inside. She remembered the connection between them, the hundred years together that meant they scarcely needed to speak at all to know what the other was thinking.

The colonel, Teal'c, and Daniel entered then, breaking into her thoughts. "Marty!" O'Neill exclaimed with a wide sweep of his arms, without a hint of his usual dislike for the Tok'ra. "Good to see you again. And you --" he stopped and stared at Jolinar. "Oh," he said at last. "Now I get it."

But they didn't even notice him. They jumped to their feet, and stared in alarm as Teal'c entered the door. They both reached for weapons they weren't wearing.

"Jaffa!" Jolinar hissed the word, all trace of Rosha's gentleness vanishing. Sam wondered if this was what she had looked like when Jolinar had threatened to blow up the gateroom.

"No!" Markus stood up and held up his hands. "Stop. Malek told you. Teal'c is Jaffa, but he doesn't serve the Goa'uld."

"He did once," Lantash snarled. "Apophis sect. First Prime."

Teal'c nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Once I was First Prime to Apophis. However, I left him to fight beside the Tau'ri against all the false gods and free my people from slavery to the Goa'uld. Are there no Free Jaffa in this universe?"

Jolinar and Lantash exchanged another look. "No," Jolinar answered, relaxing her stance. "There are rumors every dozen years, and the System Lords discover small groups and exterminate them. But there is certainly no widespread or organized rebellion."

"If everyone would sit down, we have much to discuss," Markus said, resuming his seat. The others followed, spreading around the table. Sam found herself between Markus and Teal'c, across from the Tok'ra, while O'Neill grabbed the head of the table with Lantash to one side and Daniel the other.

Markus performed the introductions and then leaned back in his chair, turning his head toward Sam. "Now that you have the naquadah, is that all you need?"

She shot a look at Lantash, assuming he was still in control after the surprise of Teal'c. "I could use ceramic polymer conduit shielding like that on a glider or tel'tak, if you have any. If I use lead, the generator won't be as efficient. A power regulating crystal would help too, for output stability."

Lantash nodded. "Yes, we can help with components. Our tel'tak is cloaked in the woods close by. I would like to see your plans for the generator. It sounds like a design unknown to us."

She smiled at him. "The design was by a very smart little girl from the planet Orbana. I've built more than my share of reactors, so I don't need any written plans, but your help would be welcome."

"The reactor's not our only problem," O'Neill reminded them. "Seth."

The reaction of the two Tok'ra was identical and instantaneous. They straightened sharply, like dogs scenting prey, and turned to face him. "Seth is here?" Jolinar asked.

O'Neill nodded. "I didn't see him myself, but Carter did."

She tried not to shiver, recalling those cold eyes set in the handsome face, and laid out the facts as she would in any other briefing. "He called himself Seth and he was definitely a Goa'uld." She explained about the nish'ta and the cult, its guarded compound, and breeding program.

When Sam was finished, Jolinar nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, we will investigate. A Goa'uld presence on this world is unwelcome news. What he plans is bad enough, but I am concerned that if Seth should learn about the chappa'ai, he would not stop until he has gained control of it. While Lantash is assisting Samantha, I will return to the tel'tak and retrieve the needed components. Then we will need to investigate Seth's situation. You will give us the location?"

Sam assured her it was no problem. She was glad to see that Seth remained a priority for the Tok'ra in this reality as well.

"West and Seth, sweet," O'Neill muttered. "Nice collection of enemies, Markus."

"I didn't have any until you people showed up," he shot back and stood. "Sam, if you need my -- our -- help, please let me know. But in the meantime, I still have some catching up to do downstairs. Daniel, if you would escort Jolinar?" Daniel nodded, and Markus moved toward the door. "We'll meet again at lunch," he said and left, with Teal'c following after.

Sam glanced at Martouf, and their gaze met. She couldn't help smiling at him or that fluttery feeling in her gut when he smiled back.

"We should probably get started on the generator," she suggested.

He broke the moment himself, "Of course." His eyes naturally went straight to Jolinar who smiled back at him, with that exact same love in her eyes that Sam _**felt**_ from her borrowed memories. Then Jolinar got up, with Daniel at her side and they left.

"So, where do we start?" the colonel asked, rubbing his hands together in pretended eagerness.

"You're working on security," she reminded him, "We're building a power supply. Ready, Martouf?" she asked, unable to look away, while the Jolinar-in-her-head wanted to bask in his nearness again.

No, she thought sarcastically and laughed at herself, this wasn't going to be hard at all.


	36. Chapter 36

Colonel West paced back and forth in front of the main gate of Fort Leavenworth, the past Combined Arms Center. For the last two years, General Waverly had transformed the base into the Center for Strategic Command. West had spent almost as much time here as he had in Mount Pegasus, trying to extract all the usable information he could obtain. The base had been sacked numerous times in the last fifteen years, most of the portable resources stripped clean, but it was the information they wanted the most -- information about the world and its possible defenses, for when they got control of the virus.

Well, it was all water under the bridge. Valhalla Sector was in the hands of traitors, General Waverly was a prisoner in the Mountain and it was up to him and the Valkyrie to free him. With any luck it could be done at the expense of Markus' life. He gazed around him at the force at his disposal thinking about how he was going to accomplish it all.

He'd recalled everyone who could get here in time. He couldn't help an inward sneer of disgust; it was a powerful force by current standards, but it was a small fraction of what it would've been in the old days. Just twenty-three helicopters sat on what had been the front lawn of the administration building. He had about three hundred men, with more trickling in all the time from the splinter bases.

But it should be more than enough to crush Thunder Mountain, as long as the plan worked. It had to work. The morning had been nothing but bad news, starting with the revolt in Valhalla Sector and Alexander's escape, and Simmons and Emerson both dead.

He grimaced sourly. At least the "rescue" of the prisoners from Millhaven wasn't part of the bad news. But all of it put together, made him the commander of the United States military. Going to Millhaven had been out of the question, and since Waverly had made Thunder Mountain the priority, West had ordered his troops to land at Leavenworth, where they could regroup.

It hadn't taken long to set up a base camp. He had the men take inventory of hardware and ammunition, to start getting ready. The Valkyrie would give him a narrow window of opportunity -- if he wasn't there when it was open, cracking Thunder Mountain would take a lot more resources than he had.

But he needed intel. To that end, he was waiting for the arrival of Captain Davis from Millhaven to help assess the battle readiness of the Thunder Mountain soldiers.

His radio burst into life. "Colonel West? This is Captain Davis. We had to detour and we're at the north gate. Lt. Spencer is escorting us to your office."

West grunted and agreed to meet him there. Swearing about incompetent captains and wasting time, the colonel got back into his Humvee and returned to his makeshift office.

Davis was already seated and had helped himself to West's stash of whiskey. West sauntered into the room, causing Davis to choke and quickly put his tumbler down on the desk, standing to attention.

"Sorry, sir. It's been a rough day."

West took the time to really appraise the captain. He did look pale and nervous. "What happened?" West asked in a more conciliatory tone.

"The people around here are crazy. I mean, if _**you**_ saw a military convoy of thirty armed men, would you accost it? But these people…" he shook his head in amazement. "We had to kill some of them to get past, sir. Weirdest of all, we came across a woman standing in the middle of the road. She had long dark hair, and she was wearing a black dress. When we got closer we saw that her eyes," he paused, "they looked like Liz Taylor's in that movie we saw last year, you know, the Cleopatra one?"

Davis nodded. "She painted herself to look Egyptian," he paraphrased, and dismissed it with a head shake. Clearly these kids needed a firm hand to guide them.

"Yeah. She didn't move. We didn't want to run her over. She was crazy, but, y'know, not bad to look at." He took a deep breath. "But it was a trap. When we slowed down, her crazy friends ran out of the woods at us. I told Matt to floor it and we went around her. As we passed, she jumped up and tried to get into the car. We ended up dragging her several feet before she fell off."

"How many were there?"

"I don't know, twenty maybe. But the really freaky thing was when we got to the west gate, there was another girl, dressed exactly the same, sir, and a bunch of men, standing at the perimeter fence looking in. That's why we went around."

West felt uneasy. He'd have to send someone out and do a bit of investigating himself. He didn't like the idea that they were being watched, especially by some local cult of crazies. He'd heard a few disquieting reports from out this way, and at this stage of the game it wouldn't do to get caught with his pants down. "I'll get someone on it. How many soldiers did you bring still loyal to the government?"

"All of them, sir. Thunder Mountain didn't take any prisoners. And none have defected as far as I know."

West sharpened his look. As far as he knew? What kind of answer was that?

They talked over strengths and weaknesses of their position and how to use everything to their advantage. As soon as the meeting ended, West sent Davis to quarter his troops, and he went to assign a detail to investigate this new problem.

\---+---

Markus took the elevator back down to his office relieved that Malek's friends had come through. Sam had her naquadah source and could now make a power generator that would not only make the Stargate work, but would also supply the mountain with all the energy they could use. It was like a dream come true in many ways. Or at least one less thing to worry about.

'_That is your problem_,' Malek told him. '_You worry about every detail. The people in here are not your children_.'

'_I can't help it. I've worried about this place for a long time. Sometimes I feel like the only one who can keep it all together_.' He sighed deeply, his thoughts turning from the important but dull thoughts of adequate power, to the true dream that could come true soon.

'_Now you are worrying about Meaghan_.'

'_I want to work on her cure. Now, not tomorrow, and not after Daniel and the others have left. I don't want to wait until Seth is defeated. I want her cured now. I want to set her free._'

'_Noble wishes, but_\--'

'_Not noble. Selfish_,' Markus was quick to correct.

Their internal argument was interrupted by a knock on the door. Lee poked his head inside. "You wanted to see me?"

"Come in. And shut the door." After Lee closed the door and came to the table, he answered, "I have a favor to ask of you."

Le turned eager eyes to him. "Anything, Markus."

Markus almost smiled. "Don't be so quick to agree until you've heard it."

Lee shook his head as if disbelieving Markus could ask him anything he wouldn't do.

He folded his hands and looked up at Lee. "I want to visit the Brothers of the Apocalypse. How long would it take us to get there?"

Lee was surprised by the request, but also clearly restraining his natural urge to question why Markus would want to do something so bizarre. He answered, simply, "About two hours."

Markus followed up with another question, his voice louder, trying to overpower the groaning in his head. "Can you contact them and ask them if we can visit?"

Lee nodded. "Sure. Brother Clarence gave me their number. I'd just need a sat phone."

That was interesting, that the Brothers would have an active phone. There was definitely more going on there than tending vegetables and grapes. But he was amused. Lee thought he was speaking hypothetically.

'_Of course he does,' _Malek put in, exasperated, '_the thought you might want to go __**today**__ is insane.'_

Another knock sounded at his door, interrupting the rant that Markus could feel building in his new friend.

Sarah cracked open the door at his call to come in. "Brian and Steve just called in. They left early this morning and drove to Clarefield. Everything's quiet there. Now they're in Millhaven and they said it looks like the whole military presence have departed. Only the locals are left."

Markus frowned. "Wonder where they went to?"

"Regrouping," Lee answered. "I'm sure they gathered with West's men, wherever they are. They'll need to form a plan now that Valhalla Sector's out of the picture."

When she was gone and the door shut again, Markus commented, "At least West and his men aren't where we want to go."

Lee's expression changed to dumbfounded amazement. "You mean, you want to go soon?

"I mean, I want to go today. Here." He took Lee's phone out of his desk drawer, plugged the cord into the jack, and handed it to Lee, who was still staring at him, biting his lower lip in anxiety.

Malek's presence was like a small sullen rock in his mind, radiating disapproval.

Markus cheerfully ignored them both, to work the computer system and access the external communications link. He punched in one of the codes Sam had given him, realizing with a laugh, that all of them were the names of Tok'ra. '_Even you're numbered among the ones that open the front door_,' Markus pointed out to Malek, seeking to distract him out of his funk. It didn't work.

As Lee contacted the Brothers, Markus only partially listened to the conversation, trying to come up with a decent argument that would appease Erin. She was not going to happy about not only his leaving, but leaving with Lee.

His real reason wasn't one he could give her, because it didn't explain his urgency. Meaghan was going to be cured soon, but she couldn't just appear out of nowhere. She certainly couldn't be revealed as having been in the mountain all this time or that she had been a carrier of the Big Death. But the instant he'd heard about the Brothers, he'd thought it might be a solution and give her a place to be _**from**_.

The mountain was under threat, and it was a bad time to be gone, he knew all that. But it didn't matter. She had been stuck in that cell for almost sixteen years. Now he had the power to free her and he wasn't going to let her remain trapped there for one day longer than he could manage. She had given him so much -- he could never refuse her this.

Lee hung up and put the phone down. He turned and said, with some reluctance, "We're all set. We can leave whenever you want."

"Great. We'll go quickly. Maybe before Erin knows we've gone."

\---+---

Lee drove out of the cavernous garage to begin their journey. They hadn't gotten away in secret, but Markus had put his foot down and Erin had given in, though not without threatening Lee with bodily harm if he didn't bring Markus back in one piece.

At the bottom of the hill, he turned onto the highway that skirted Fort Carson and headed north. Once on straight road, Lee glanced sideways at Markus. The other man was leaning back, eyes closed, his gaunt features more pronounced at rest. Lee felt the worry trickle in. Maybe Erin was right and Markus had no business leaving.

"I can hear your thoughts all the way over here," Markus spoke up, opening his eyes and looking squarely back.

"Yeah, so what are they?" he asked, sounding defensive.

"You, like everyone else, think I should be tucked up in my bed."

Lee knew better than to agree with that aloud. "You make a lousy patient," Lee said with a chuckle. "Even with that bullet hole in you, you still went back to Danbury, when I thought you should be in the infirmary."

"Yeah, no one liked that trip either." Markus settled back in the seat and closed his eyes again. "Some things are more important."

Lee wanted to object that seeing the Brothers couldn't be one of them. But Markus thought it was important and Lee didn't feel it was his place right now to argue. He'd been lucky to be invited.

They drove onward mostly in silence, approaching the outskirts of Denver, and Lee got off the main highway to go around the old city, avoiding the more settled areas. The last thing they needed on this trip was to get ambushed by some locals wanting the truck. About half an hour from Clarefield, Markus suddenly broke the silence.

"I want you to promise never to tell anyone about anything that happens today."

Lee jumped at the sound of Markus' voice. "I --"

Markus was sitting up straight, watching him. "No excuses, Lee. We're starting anew. Now I want your word that you won't speak of anything that happens this afternoon, not even where we're going."

"I would never --"

There was a hardness in Markus' face that Lee had never seen before, and it made Lee stop talking before Markus even opened his mouth. "Swear to me, Lee. This is serious. If I can't get your promise --"

"I swear, Markus," he rushed in, needing to make Markus understand that he had one hundred percent of his loyalty. "I won't repeat anything that's happened to today to anyone. Ever."

Markus looked more relaxed. "Thank you."

"Now that I've promised, are you going to tell me why we're visiting the Brothers?"

"First, I'm going to talk to them."

"And then?" Lee asked.

"If I can trust them, then I have a couple of things I'd like them to help with." Markus paused, then asked, "Do you know anything more about them? What do they think about me?"

Lee took a moment to answer, his curiosity nearly strangling him with the need to find out what Markus was planning. But Markus was still witholding the details from him, despite Lee's promise of secrecy. The lack of trust -- the test -- bit him, but he knew it wasn't any less than he deserved. "Well, they don't seem to know much about you personally, but they do know what Thunder Mountain stands for. That's why they want an alliance with us. I told them we agree, and that we'd get back to them. We had some things to take care of first."

"You what?!" Markus sat up in his seat and stared at Lee. "You made them believe I agreed to an alliance but then kept them hanging for almost a year?"

"I had to tell them to wait," Lee pleaded with Markus to understand. "I couldn't take the chance you'd challenge Valhalla. Devon told me to wait. To make you wait. We had to see what that new vaccine was doing, first."

Markus looked at him, with narrowed eyes. "Never again, Lee."

Lee felt very small. "I know."

"Damn. This is a problem," Markus sat back in his seat once more and folded his arms, looking straight ahead with a frown. "Just drive, Lee. I need to think about this."

\---+---

Sam and Martouf worked in companionable silence after she showed him a crude drawing of what she was trying to make. Most of the parts were assembled, but actually connecting the naquadah to the makeshift housing she had constructed was tricky. Martouf and Lantash had some knowledge, but Sam really wished it was Markus there beside her. Markus would have enjoyed the exercise, but more importantly, she wouldn't be all thumbs.

The door slid open and Jolinar with Daniel entered. She smiled in relief.

"I think we have what you need," Daniel remarked, as Jolinar set the shielding on the desk. "You'll never guess what Jolinar told me. It turns out that Cordesh was a spy in this reality, too."

"Really? I guess some things are universal," Sam said, nodding her thanks to Jolinar. As she picked up the shielding to carry it over to the module, a staggering thought made her freeze in her tracks. Malek was with Markus again. Jolinar and Lantash were with their familiar hosts. Cordesh was a spy. Maybe they weren't the only Tok'ra who were the same between the two realities. Her heart began to pound with excitement at the possibility.

Lantash and Jolinar turned to her as one, while Martouf prompted gently, "What is it?"

Sam exchanged a look with Daniel, but he looked quizzically at her as well. She held back from blurting out her idea, knowing that there was a better than even chance that the realities were _**too**_ closely parallel and it might be too late. But still, she had to tell them and give them a chance to find out.

"What is it you are not telling us?" Jolinar demanded.

Sam drew in a deep breath to try to calm her burst of excitement and tell the Tok'ra her idea in a manner they could understand. "Why don't you sit down? It's kind of a long story."

Jolinar pulled a stool next to Lantash, but Sam was too nervous to sit, so she paced. "I'm sure you've noticed that Teal'c doesn't have a prim'ta?"

She explained about Pangar and the Goa'uld queen the Pangarans had found, using her larva for a cure-all drug, and how it had proved addictive.

Then she gulped, staring with apology at both Tok'ra. "We found out that the queen was Egeria."

At first the two Tok'ra were stunned. Then Jolinar leaped to her feet. "You saved her, didn't you?"

Sam winced. "Kelmaa -- or her host, I mean -- blended with Egeria, and Malek talked with her, but no. She was too weak."

The two Tok'ra shared a glance and Lantash spoke, "We must go. If she was that close to death in your reality, it is imperative we waste no more time."

Jolinar nodded in agreement. "Yes. Tell us the address and we will visit this world."

"Be careful," Sam warned them. "The Pangarans weren't exactly hospitable." She wrote down the address and handed the paper to Lantash.

He glanced at the paper, frowned in thought, and then nodded. "This is Shak'ran's homeworld."

Sam was surprised. "Shak'ran's still alive?" At their nod, she bit her lip, wondering how that would change things. "Then his temple's probably not in ruins."

"That makes no difference," Jolinar said. "This is the closest to Egeria we have come in two thousand years. We will assassinate Shak'ran and level his temple if necessary to find our queen."

"Assuming she's there at all," Sam pointed out reluctantly.

Lantash nodded impatiently. "Yes, we understand that events may have occurred differently. Nonetheless, this is the most valuable information you could ever have given us."

"Enough to let Malek stay here without hassle?" Daniel asked.

Both Tok'ra paused, exchanged another look, and Lantash smiled. "Indeed. His detour will not be important if we can recover our queen. An excellent thought, Daniel."

"Come," Jolinar started for the door. "We must report this in person, and the sooner we leave, the sooner scouts may be sent to Pangar."

Daniel escorted them out, and Sam was glad, since she still needed to work on the generator. But she hoped it would work out for them.

\---+---

Jack and Erin were discussing security when Raymond and two others came bursting into the office. Jack didn't like the look on Raymond's face at all.

"Where's Markus?" Raymond asked, out of breath.

"He's taking a little time to himself," Erin answered. "Did you find something?"

Raymond cast a suspicious look at Jack, like he wasn't sure if he could talk in front of him. She reassured him impatiently, "It's okay. Go ahead -- maybe he can help."

Jack smiled, trying to look innocent and helpful.

Raymond explained, "Markus asked me to do a quick inventory of our weapons storage, to see if anyone's been in them. And someone has."

Jack snatched the paper from Raymond's hand, ignoring Raymond's protest, and scanned the written inventory. It started out bad with opened crates of weapons and missing contents, and then turned into a recipe for disaster.

"Jack? What is it?" Erin asked.

He looked at her and his hand squished the paper into a fist. "Round up as many security people as possible and search every level you can. We're looking for a bomb."


	37. Chapter 37

The search was underway. Jack knew he took a chance the perpetrator would try to hide it again, but he hoped with enough eyes, there wouldn't be opportunity.

The first place he had them check were the primary systems: ventilation, water supply, computer controls and Markus' office. Erin had let Teal'c search Markus' personal quarters. All came up empty. So far he hadn't had to worry about how to search the restricted area, but he was already dreading it. He knew Markus was going to want to keep Meaghan a secret -- which was going to mean Markus and SG-1 would have to comb over a four isolabs by themselves. He hoped Markus had been searching on his own while he'd been so strangely absent for the past few hours.

Because Jack's search had come up empty. There was worse news from Raymond, who had finished a more detailed inventory. Three guns were missing. One person could only use two at most, so that suggested there was more than one person involved.

Kurdy joined him in the hall outside Markus' office. "My team's cleared level twenty-one. I thought the infirmary might be a target."

"Good thinking," Jack commented, though he was just as glad it hadn't come true. But, if twenty-one was checked, it left fewer places as possible targets. "Where's Jeremiah?" he asked, noticing the absence of the young man.

Kurdy gave a sigh. "He's visiting Waverly. That letter got him riled up."

Jack nodded with sympathy. "Okay, take your team through level twenty-two."

Kurdy nodded, but then the floor shook and the door in front of him rattled violently in its frame. Jack yanked it open and rushed into Markus' office. Through the large window he could see smoke billowing out from behind the Stargate. The back wall of the fountain was also gone, and water was now pooling under the gate. Either the shrapnel of the rocks and broken tiles, or just the force of the explosion, had hit several carts filled with vegetable laden plants, which had splattered, leaving juicy remains dripping from tables and the walls.

The small crowd of people in the cafeteria were just their feet and anxiously checking each other for injuries. But as Jack's gaze swept the scene, he didn't see anyone who looked too badly hurt. Luckily the fountain and the Stargate itself had deflected most of the force of the blast into the back wall, where no one had been.

"That's it?" Kurdy asked, sounding relieved but also confused.

Jack shook his head immediately. Even with the blast mostly contained, the explosion wasn't nearly strong enough to account for all the missing explosives. So, what purpose did this explosion serve, if it had never been intended to do much damage?

It had to be a diversion. There had been detonators and timers missing as well, which allowed the bomber to position himself wherever he wanted to be. Something to pull the mountain's security down into the deepest level of the mountain, away from the upper levels. But the mountain was still in coded lockdown, so the diversion wouldn't help anyone get out.

Then he realized with something like an electrical shock to his whole body, that there was someone who could get out. Waverly. That was what the three guns were for.

His hands went to his waist, needing to feel the comfortable weight of his P90, but instead came up with his trusty zat. It would have to do.

Tearing out of the office, he headed for the elevator.

Just as Jack entered the elevator, Kurdy stuck a hand in between the closing doors and forced them open again. "You can't take on whatever alone," he said bluntly as he got on.

"Are you armed?"

Kurdy gave him a blank look. "I was looking for a bomb, not fighting a war."

Jack didn't want to argue with him, even though they were clearly fighting a war. "Fine, you watch my back, but I'm going in first."

The elevator doors opened on the thirteenth floor and Jack made them climb one of the accessway ladders, just in case there was some kind of welcoming committee in the corridor on twelve. But they had to hurry. If people were trying to free Waverly, they'd have a good head start.

\---+---

Jeremiah stood in front of the cell door glaring at the man who was responsible for his mother's death long ago, and now his dad's.

"Who're you, boy?" Waverly asked with a sneer.

"Jeremiah," he responded, without breaking eye contact.

"Devon's kid?" he asked incredulously. "You've been here all along?"

Jeremiah didn't answer. "Why'd you do it? My mom just wanted to find her kids. Why'd you have to shoot her as she was --"

"Trying to escape?" Waverly finished for him.

"Escape? That's what you call it?" Jeremiah could feel the rage like acid burning in him. "Because of you she never made it home."

Waverly said, "It was escape. Devon and Janet --"

"Her_**name**_ was Mary!" Jeremiah snapped.

Waverly went on as if he hadn't spoken. "They were sneaking out of Valhalla, so Devon wouldn't have to work on the virus any more. But I knew he didn't have the stomach for what was required of him, so I made certain he was watched. You tell yourself all the bedtime stories you want, but he wasn't running to you, but away from us."

Jeremiah exploded, pounding his fist against the wall. "Son of a bitch," he shouted. "You murdered my mother, using her to get control of him."

"Of course," he answered coldly. "I would have used you, too, if I could have laid my hands on you. I kept hoping you'd show up, knocking on the door see your dad. But you never did. I assumed you hadn't made it, or I would have searched harder for you." There was a menacing look in his eyes that captivity hadn't quenched. He didn't look beaten, only contained.

The door to the hall opened, and Jeremiah assumed the guard was coming in to tell him to leave. Instead, he found himself looking down the barrel of a silenced semi-automatic held by a woman with eyes just as cold as those of the man behind bars.

"Open the cell," she ordered.

Jeremiah looked incredulously at her. "What ? You think I have a key? I'm just a peon in this place. You'll have to ask Markus."

She pulled the trigger, sending out several shots, which sounded like a cat throwing up. The bullets came enough, he caught the heat of one as it bounced back at him. "I said open it."

"Where's the guard who was outside the door?" Jeremiah asked, realizing he hadn't heard anything.

"Dead. He didn't have the keys on him," she threatened. Keeping her gun trained on Jeremiah, she walked over to the cell. "I planned a diversion, sir, but we don't have much time. Stand back." She tried raining bullets on the lock with no result.

Jeremiah quickly ran through the possibilities in his mind. He might be able to get the jump on her, but could he succeed without getting shot? Doubtful. She held herself like an expert.

Her head suddenly swiveled to the door. In a flash she threw the gun inside Waverly's cell and pulled out a handgun.

"Drop it, lady," a stern voice commanded from the hallway.

Jack.

In response, she turned her gun to point it straight at Jeremiah. "You drop yours, or he's dead."

Jack hovered outside the door, but peeked around the corner holding the "s" shaped gun he'd used on Jeremiah before. Hadn't they said twice killed? If he got shot again would he die? He looked into Jack's eyes and saw calm confidence, but also deadly intent. He wasn't gonna let her go.

"Sorry, Jeremiah." And he shot them both.

\---+---

Kurdy looked on with disbelief as Jack fired his fancy taser gun right at Jeremiah and the girl. Both crumpled to the floor.

"You ain't getting out of there, General," Jack called out from behind the corner. "Not while there's breath in my body. You're a disgrace to the military and have to be stopped."

"By you, O'Neill?" Waverly called back, taunting.

"Hey, I'm the one you're stuck with. You'll have to make do."

Kurdy was getting frustrated. His friend was lying in a heap on the floor and all Jack did was trade threats with the jailed asshole. "I can't believe you shot Jeremiah!" he accused. "Couldn't you have found a better way?" He tried to brush past Jack to get to his friend, but Jack held out his arm and wouldn't let him into the room. "Let me in," Kurdy demanded.

Jack let out a dramatic sigh and stepped into the room. As Kurdy entered behind him, he saw Waverly pull up a gun and aim it at Jack. But before he could fire, Jack used his own gun and Waverly slumped to the floor.

"My way is so much neater," Jack said matter-of factly, as he removed her handgun, frisked her for more weapons and then dragged the recumbent body into the vacant cell.

"Are they alive?" Kurdy asked, bending over Jeremiah, and began looking for a pulse.

"Of course. It's hard to interrogate a dead person." Jack sounded pleased as he shut the second cell door with a clang. "Hopefully Valhalla doesn't have anyone else in here. We're running out of cells."

He then walked over to the cell containing Waverly and stuck a hand through the bars to pull the gun free of the lax hands.

Kurdy shook his head at him, and asked, "How long will it take for them to wake up?"

"A few minutes. You'll stay with Jeremiah? I need to go report this."

Kurdy looked doubtfully up at Jack. "He's really not hurt?"

"He might get a headache, but he's been zatted before," Jack called out as he left.

"Zatted before?" Kurdy muttered to himself, disgusted. "What the hell kinda mess did you get yourself into?" he asked the unconscious Jeremiah.

\---+---

Sam left her makeshift lab and headed to the gateroom to help as soon as she heard the explosion. She only discovered that the gateroom was the site of the explosion when she got there.

Erin was standing on the side of the fountain, talking with a few of the residents.

Sam looked around. It was a mess, but the worst damage was to the fountain. She judged the central point of the blast and splashed over there, sifting through the wet debris. She found the remnants of a timer and shook the water off it. Standing, she surveyed the scene again, trying to figure out what this was supposed to accomplish.

She moved back to Erin, where the younger woman was watching her curiously. "Erin, do you know where Colonel O'Neill is?"

Erin shrugged her shoulders. "Haven't seen him. What did you find?"

"Part of a timer --" Sam started but was interrupted, as one of the others called out.

"There's Jack."

Sam turned and saw the colonel loping towards them.

"Did anyone get hurt?" he asked.

"Some cuts and scrapes. Nothing major, thank God. Just vegetables," Erin answered.

Sam opened her hand to show O'Neill what she had found. He glanced at it, nodded, and didn't seem surprised.

"I've caught the saboteur," Jack announced, taking both women by surprise. "She used this as a diversion to spring Waverly."

"She?" Erin repeated curiously..

"Yeah. I caught her in the brig, zatted her, and locked her up in the other cell." He grinned. "They should be waking up about now."

"They?" Sam blinked. "How many did you zat, sir?"

"Well, Jeremiah, too. She had him hostage. Then Waverly, when he picked up a gun. I left Kurdy with them." Jack looked around, with a puzzled frown. "Where's Markus? You'd think having a bomb go off would bring him running."

Sam saw that Erin wasn't worried, but looked more resigned.

"He's not inside," she explained in a low voice. "He said he'd be back around dinner time."

"He went alone? That doesn't sound too smart."

"He took Lee," Erin added, with a shrug.

Jack stiffened. "Only Lee? Not Teal'c or someone else?"

"No. And don't ask me what he's doing 'cause he won't tell me. It's a big secret. I begged, demanded, asked nicely, and even tried to trick him into telling me where he was going and he said he'd let me know if everything worked out. Until then I had to trust him. I hate it when he stoops to the trust argument," she vented with disgust. "I can never win against it."

\---+---

Daniel stood in the background listening to Jack. He shook his head. Only Jack would zat the whole room. Maybe he ought to go up and see how Jeremiah and Kurdy were doing. He hadn't had much chance to talk to either of them since they got back. He wanted to know more about what happened between them and the Tok'ra, just in case either found out. Kurdy might take it okay, but after Jeremiah's experiences with Seth, he might not be as relaxed.

Daniel didn't want to even think about Jeremiah finding out about Malek.

When he got to the hall outside the brig, he saw the guard dead and a gun with a silencer lying next to him. He picked up the gun and clicked the safety on, not wanting it to land in the wrong hands.

"I can't believe I'm still alive," Daniel heard Jeremiah saying.

"Well, if that bitch had anything to do with it, you'd have been dog meat."

Daniel entered the room in time to see Kurdy help a woozy Jeremiah to his feet.

"Jack's done it to me a few times," Daniel told them. "And always without warning."

"But I thought two shots killed you?" Jeremiah asked, brushing off his pants.

"Only if it's twice in rapid succession." Daniel looked over to the cells and saw the woman trying to sit up. "That's her?" he asked walking closer. He had wondered if he knew her from his reality and was glad she was a stranger.

"Are you Markus Alexander?" she asked in a haughty voice.

"No," Waverly inserted, now that he was awake. "He's Daniel Jackson. We never did figure out how you fit into this."

Kurdy started laughing. "You could take the next ten years and not even come close."

Daniel silently agreed. Then he turned back to the woman. "What's your name?"

She looked over at the general who nodded. "Lt. Susan DiTullio."

"Let me guess, munitions expert?" he asked, but she remained silent.

"Come on, we got better things to do." Kurdy urged Jeremiah to leave.

With a last glare, Jeremiah left.

Daniel turned to follow, but couldn't stand the thought of Waverly gloating. Not after all Waverly had done. He deserved to sit in there and squirm.

Daniel looked back over his shoulder and felt very vindictive as he said, "I prefer my generals crispy."

He knew it would never happen -- although Malek was going to have some interesting ideas for suitable justice -- but Daniel was grimly satisfied by the look on Waverly's face. Perhaps he was starting to understand the depth of his mistake.

\---+---

Markus had a lot to think about. The meeting with the Brothers had turned out better than he had imagined. Brother Clarence, the one who had met Lee before, had spoken openly to him of his beliefs. While Markus had little use for religion himself, he was nothing but respectful and interested in Brother Clarence's explanations of what the Brothers believed. Their faith was certainly useful for what Markus wanted.

When asked why he'd waited so long, Markus had confessed to not listening to Lee, wrapped up in his grief for Simon and the complications of opening the doors. He also admitted to being a prisoner of Valhalla Sector, without being specific about how long he'd been there. Clarence had kindly changed the subject for him.

Markus told Clarence that he had wanted to be the first to tell them that the threat of the Big Death would soon be over. Valhalla Sector had fallen and its leaders were mostly gone. Brother Clarence seemed relieved by the news, which helped Markus decide a few things.

During the tour, a carefully casual question had revealed that, although the Brothers were men, there was a 'sister' group not far away, and the two interacted fairly often. Since neither Markus nor Malek had seen or heard anything to suggest the Brothers were anything more or less than they appeared, he decided to go forward with step one of his plan. With Lee listening nearby, Markus had spoken to Clarence of his main problem and how he hoped the Brothers might be able to help him.

Much to Markus' relief, Clarence's gaze had been bright with compassion and he had nodded once, patting Markus' shoulder. "Yes, my son. We will help you. It's a wise and compassionate choice you have made, and we will gladly take up the burden of that man's fate for you. He will stay here securely, and he will learn that the path to forgiveness is neither quick nor easy."

Markus had seen Lee's mouth open as he'd figured out the plan, but he'd stayed silent, backing up Markus completely.

Malek said silently, apparently remembering along with him. '_Yes. Before I wasn't sure where he placed his loyalties, but now I know he believes in you_.'

'_How can you be certain?' _ Markus asked.

'_Before, when I knew him, he was always hiding, from himself most of all, I think. But not now. And,'_ Malek's mental "voice" lightened to more of a tease, '_because he declined your generous offer to betray you. I know that's why you wanted him along.'_

That was true. It had been the only argument to sway Erin -- they could never be sure if Lee wasn't playing a deep game of his own, unless he refused some perfect opportunity. She'd said it was too dangerous, but Markus knew the stakes had to be irresistible.

Since Lee hadn't tried to dispose of Markus by the side of the road or take him straight to Colonel West, Markus had decided full trust was possible again. He was glad Malek trusted Lee, also. It made him feel better about having to tell Lee about his symbiote.

'_Yes. You should. Considering the part he must play in the rest of your plan_.'

'_All right. Here goes nothing.' _Markus inhaled a long calming breath and directed, "I think it's time you heard the rest. You should probably stop the car."

Lee stopped dead in the middle of the road. They had yet to see a living soul on the highway, so it wasn't wrong that he should stop that way. But it felt odd: a hold over from before the Big Death. After stopping, Lee turned in his seat looking squarely at Markus. "There's more?"

Markus asked, "Did you get to meet Doctor Fukizaki, while you were at Valhalla?"

Lee blinked, looking disconcerted. "Sure, but I didn't have much to do with him. What does this have to do with the Brothers?"

"Nothing. But bear with me. Why didn't you?"

"I didn't trust him. He was one of Waverly's backers."

"No," Markus corrected quietly. "He always understood the virus, Lee. He kept it from Waverly for fifteen years. And he can cure it, too."

"But -- but," he sputtered, came to a stop, and started again. "'Can cure'? You said he was dead."

"He is, sort of. But not really."

Lee groaned. "Listen, Markus. I know how much you enjoy --"

"Because of him, I can cure Meaghan."

Lee's jaw dropped. "_**You**_ can? How?"

Markus ignored the question and took a deep breath. This was the sticky part: revealing Malek without freaking Lee out. "When our visitors came through the Stargate, do you remember what they called me?"

Lee frowned, trying to understand, even though he didn't have all the pieces yet. "They thought you were someone called Malek."

Markus licked his lips and explained, "Yes. And now it's come true in this universe too. Malek is the name of an alien symbiote, a small eel-like intelligent creature that requires a human host to survive. Both share the body. Malek's previous host was Gordon Fukizaki. When he was dying, Malek came into my body and saved my life."

Markus watched Lee. At first he looked doubtful and confused, but then the blood left his face and his hands tightened into a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "Saved your life?" Lee repeated, hoarsely.

"I'd never have made it out of the cell without him. I had suffered a lot of internal bleeding, my ribs were broken, and I'm sure Malek could give you a long list of other things he found wrong with my body."

'_Kidney damage, splenic failure, pneumonia, hypoglycemia, dehydration_…' Malek continued, rather too cheerfully until Markus begged him to stop.

Markus finished quietly, "When Gordon was shot to death in front of me, I made the only decision I could, to save both Malek and myself by accepting him."

Lee was silent for a long moment working it through. "That's why you can save Meaghan," he said finally. "Malek knows how, he's inside you, so he told you."

"Right." It was close enough for now.

Lee seemed to have himself in better control. His face had regained its color and he'd relaxed his death grip in the wheel. "You're not going tell anyone else?"

"No. Only you and Erin. You two know what Meaghan is, so you have to know how it's possible she can be cured. But no one else." He chuckled shortly. "I don't think our people are ready for aliens, not yet. Maybe not ever."

"So. There's an ... alien in you?" Lee asked, squinting at him as if he could see Malek if he looked hard enough.

Malek nudged him mentally. '_Let me.'_ Markus felt his head droop a little as Malek stepped into control and lifted his head back up to face Lee.

"I am Malek."

Lee pushed himself instinctively into the driver's side door away from the odd voice. "Markus?" his own voice was shaking.

'_Try not to frighten him too much, please,'_ Markus advised.

"He hears you," Malek said aloud. "I'm sorry; I didn't intend to scare you. I came forward so you could speak with me and understand that Markus is telling you the truth. I am not here to hurt anyone. I spent fifteen years in Valhalla Sector trying to manage the lesser of two evils, and now I'm here to support Markus and his dream as much as I can. I don't intend to speak often, only among those who accept me. I hope in time you can be one of them."

"I ..." Lee straightened up from the door, still watching Markus warily, but without fear. "I'm glad you saved Markus," he said finally.

"I am too," Malek answered and bowed his head again, to let Markus slide back into place.

"You know," he said in his own voice, trying to be casual and ease Lee's anxiety, "that bugs me. I hear myself talk, but it's not me. It's very odd."

Lee's eyes widened again. "Markus?"

"Yes. It's not like I left." He asked curiously, "Does it bother you talking to Malek?"

"No. No, I guess not."

Lee fell silent, and Markus was about to question Lee on what he was thinking, when Malek told him, '_Relax, let the boy figure it out. We should rest, since there will be a lot for you to contend with when we get back home_.'


	38. Chapter 38

Teal'c entered the room where the Thunder Mountain residents ate their food, much satisfied with his accomplishment. His stomach rumbled as if he had expended much energy, when all he had done in fact was stare. He had noticed in the past that humans became increasingly nervous the more he stared, especially if he refused to talk. Curiosity about the new female saboteur had taken him up to the brig, and he had stayed, trying to gain her measure and ascertain exactly her relationship with General Waverly.

Standing in line, he placed a large bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy onto his tray, followed by some green beans. Next came some meat, also a mystery, because that was what the server called it. His last stop was the sweet section. There was no Jell-O. In fact he hadn't seen that delicacy here since they'd arrived. This time, there was a plate of cookies and he helped himself to four.

Looking around for a table, he spied Daniel Jackson and Colonel O'Neill sitting together. He had not seen the younger man all day and felt pleased that they could eat dinner together.

As he drew closer, O'Neill's face lit with a grin. "T, old buddy. Take a seat."

Teal'c nodded and sat down, immediately taking his napkin and placing it onto his lap as he had seen others do. Why this custom had flourished eluded him, but he followed it.

Major Carter entered, selected her own dinner and brought it back to their table.

"How's the generator going?" Daniel asked as she sat down beside him.

"I'm done making it. All I need to do now is test it and then hook it up."

"How long will that take?" O'Neill asked.

"I should be done tomorrow. We can do a test run by maybe lunch --"

"And be home by dinner," O'Neill finished for her. "Sweet."

She added her usual caution. "Don't get your hopes up. The gate itself still has to be connected to the power supply and the computer. The program is very basic -- I'm not sure if I put enough in to actually get the gate to work. Plus the calculations for stellar drift--"

O'Neill put up a hand to stop her. "Yeah, I know. Tons of things could go wrong. We're used to that."

An odd increase in the cafeteria's noise level caught Teal'c's attention. He looked toward the door to see Erin Gant, Lee Chen, and Markus Alexander in the doorway. "Markus Alexander has returned."

The others turned to watch. Markus spoke briefly with a few people who came up to talk to him, but followed Erin on the way to the chappa'ai. The three stopped there, and Erin appeared to be telling him about the explosion. The debris and water had been cleaned up, but the scorch marks remained on the floor and wall behind the gate. Erin was gesturing, while Markus listened silently with folded arms. After one quick glance at the fountain and explosion remnants, Lee watched the room instead.

"Wonder where he's been?" Daniel spoke, his curiosity apparent.

As Daniel knew Markus the best, Teal'c thought it unlikely that anyone else would know. Teal'c presumed that Markus' activity this afternoon was related to something personal, probably Meaghan, given that he was keeping it so secret. But Teal'c was not going to speculate aloud.

"He doesn't look too happy," Daniel added, as Markus turned back toward the seating area and started toward SG-1's table.

To Teal'c, Markus seemed mostly thoughtful, but the line of his jaw and slightly narrowed eyes suggested deep anger as well. He waved Erin and Lee off to their own tasks, and sat down at the table, at Daniel's other side. "Good evening."

"Welcome back," Daniel greeted him. "What have you been up to?"

"Planning for the future," Markus answered briefly, then glanced at the Stargate with a grim expression. "And came back to find that the present is still kicking my ass."

"Sorry you missed all the fun?" O'Neill quipped.

Markus didn't try to smile at the weak joke. "We were lucky." He tore his gaze away from the Stargate and looked at O'Neill. "Thank you for catching her before she got away with it and freed Waverly."

O'Neill nodded, now serious. "I trust Erin told you that explosion can't have accounted for everything missing? There could be another bomb."

"Yeah, she told me. And that it hasn't been found." His mouth twisted into a grimace of reluctant distaste. "We're going to have to get it from her."

"Yes," Teal'c agreed. "I have been observing the two prisoners. I believe she must be questioned without General Waverly's presence. She fears him and seeks his approval. She was willing to sacrifice her life to gain his release. For any interrogation to be effective, she must be separated from his reinforcement. This should be done as soon as possible."

Markus glanced at him with interest. "I just told Lee to move her to an interview room for pretty much those reasons." He got to his feet. "I should go speak with her."

"You have time to eat, first," Daniel interjected. "We've waited until you got back, ten more minutes won't matter."

Raising his brows a little, Markus said, "Ten minutes may matter very much in the end." He paused and let out a soft sigh of resignation. "Since I'm reminded that humans need more than air to live on, I'm going to get dinner. Be right back."

Teal'c watched him go up to the food line and back and was especially vigilant of those who approached him. But no one seemed threatening; in fact, on the contrary, most people seemed to be seeking reassurance. He gave it freely, projecting confidence and strength, and seemed to take his time with each person, though he moved through the gathering efficiently.

When Markus neared the table with his tray, he noticed Teal'c's intent gaze and gave a rueful smile. "Still making sure no one puts a knife in my back?"

"Or your front," Teal'c agreed with a nod.

"Well, thanks." Markus transferred his dishes to the table, handing the tray off to a boy eager to collect it from him. He sat down and looked at all the food -- the same as Teal'c's without the cookies, but including coffee and bread -- in bemusement. "Natalie's been at the staff again. She thinks I don't eat enough on good days, and now it looks like she means to fatten me up."

"If Natalie's your chef, she should get a raise. I have no idea what animal the meat came from," O'Neill said, putting more of it in his mouth, "-- and I don't want to -- but it's pretty good."

"You can have mine, if you want. I know what it is, and my stomach is rebelling just looking at it." He pushed the plate away in distaste. "All the cookies were gone," Markus said, eyeing Teal'c's cookies hopefully.

Teal'c deliberated, mostly to tease him, and then surrendered one cookie. He held back from letting Markus take it, until he accepted the condition, "But first you must finish at least half of the food before you."

Markus rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. "Mom". Jeez, it's a wonder I get anything done."

\---+---

Markus entered the corridor leading to the interview room. He felt a little like the Pied Piper, with Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c all trailing him. Sam had gone off to test the generator, and while he was interested to look at it, he had more important things to do.

The food that Malek had eaten for them was sitting there like a lump in his stomach, which wasn't helping his vague anxiety about what he was going to do. Despite Markus' warning about the stewed meat, the Tok'ra had gone ahead and eaten it anyway.

He was going to throw up.

'_You are not. The meat was nothing not eaten on a hundred different planets, and we need protein. I have seen in your memories that you have never eaten adequately,'_ Malek answered. '_Taking your dinner to Meaghan every day is noble, but replacing that meal with fifteen-year-old MRE's is not nutritious or appealing. It is no wonder you do not appreciate food.'_

Markus had time enough only to object to that unfair observation before he reached the door to the interview room. Taking a moment to settle himself, he opened the door and went in.

Somewhat like Meaghan's room, but smaller and not on its own life support system, the room was divided into two halves. The half he was in was the observation room, with a large window that looked into the other half. There was a table underneath the window, a few chairs, and a microphone on the table for speaking into the other room. It was dim in this room, so that the mirror effect on the other side would block any view inside. Erin and Lee were already there with two of Lee's security people.

The other room was brightly lit, and furnished with only a small table and two chairs. There was a young woman sitting in the far chair, her hands cuffed together on top of the table. She had long blonde hair, framing a face that might have been pretty, if her eyes weren't cold and her mouth wasn't curled into a sneer.

He gasped at the sight of her and blurted, "Shit!"

"Markus?" Erin asked, frowning at him.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Susan. "I knew I should've gone to look at all the new people, I knew it," he muttered. "I've seen her before. I recognize her."

Erin asked in confusion, "How on Earth can you possibly recognize her?"

Technically it was Malek who recognized her, Markus realized. It was Malek's memories he was getting it from, but he couldn't go into that right now. "I saw a, uh, picture of her in Valhalla Sector," he lied and went forward toward the window to get a closer look and avoid Erin's eyes.

'_This is not good at all,'_ Malek told him. 'S_he was one of Simmons' disciples from an early age. He sent her, about the same time he sent Lee here, to infiltrate those who had taken over the bunker at Greenbrier. She attached herself to the leadership there, and when Waverly was ready to attack, murdered her lover in his sleep and blew up the guard house. She has no compassion and little fear.'_

"Markus, I know her," Lee said. "Her name's Susan --"

"I know," Markus interrupted. "I've got chapter and verse on her already. Basically, she's a viper."

Lee looked like he wanted to say more, or question Markus' source, before he figured it out and clamped his jaw shut.

"You don't have to do this," Erin suggested. "You should do what you usually do and watch the interrogation from here."

"She's right," Jack nodded. "Leave it to Teal'c and me. Don't play her game."

Markus watched her sitting there, her expression bored as she tapped her manacles against the table. He let himself give a little sigh. "Much as I appreciate the thought -- no, I have to play her game. Because she's got me in check and she knows it. If letting her taunt me gets me a step closer to finding out if there's another bomb, then that's what I'll do. I'm going in. Alone," he added, as Teal'c and Jack stepped forward as if to join him.

"Is that wise?" Teal'c asked, making it clear in his polite way that he certainly didn't think so.

"I want to know if she recognizes me or not. If you guys come trailing in after me, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?" He forced a bit of a smile. "Let's see if I can get her to play my game first. You can spring to my rescue if she does anything, but for now stay out of sight and try not to give away that someone's watching."

They stepped back to let him do his thing, which he appreciated. He was getting a little tired of all the second-guessing and excessive concern.

But it wasn't quite over. On the way to the inner door, Daniel stopped him with a gentle touch on the arm. His gaze was concerned. "Are you sure you're up to this? So soon?"

Markus bit back a sarcastic response, knowing Daniel meant well. "I told you I don't get vacations, Daniel, especially not in the middle of a war. Step back," he gestured for Daniel to move out of the line-of-sight of the door and waited until they were all quiet to open the door.

When he entered the room, he had to blink against the sudden brightness and took a moment to close the door behind him to let his eyes adjust. Turning back, he saw that Susan was watching him.

She was sitting at the opposite end of the table, away from the door where he was. Both of them were easily visible to the watchers behind the mirrored glass window, but he ignored the mirror. He stayed near the door and folded his arms, giving her a deliberate and lingering appraisal.

"So, another visitor to the zoo?" she spoke at last and tossed her head like a restless horse. "Or are you going to ask stupid questions or just stare at me?"

"There's certainly enough to stare at," he responded, dropping his gaze to the ample cleavage displayed by her tight and low-cut sweater.

Saying it made him feel even more like throwing up, but it got the response he wanted -- she relaxed slightly and leaned back to display her attributes more fully, confident in her own desirability and ability to manipulate men. She gave him a lazy perusal of her own. "Not too bad," was her final evaluation. "Enough to work with. Who are you and what do you want from me? Besides the obvious," she added with a flirtatious grin.

"I'm the man who can free you." He took two steps closer and leaned against the other chair. "Interested?"

"Of course. But it depends on the price, doesn't it?" she returned, licking her lips suggestively. "There's some things I'll do, and some I won't. But I can assure you that you'll like what I do, very much."

Markus felt nothing but disgust. But he kept his revulsion off his face enough to smirk at her. "I'm sure. But I think for letting you go I should get something more valuable than what you give away for free."

She straightened and glared at him, as if she was offended, but not really. He saw the exact moment she figured out he was playing her by the flare of her eyelids. But then the mask returned, and she smiled. "Oh, I never give away the good stuff for free. Maybe I should offer a small down payment?" She beckoned with both hands for him to come nearer. "You could come over here and I could offer a taste of my skills? I've been told I have a talented mouth."

"That I believe," he agreed and pulled out the chair at the other end to sit in it. "But I'd rather you use it to tell me where you put the rest of the explosives you stole."

She stuck out her lower lip in a pout. "Oh, so quickly to business, Markus? You are Markus, I presume? I'm disappointed. I thought for sure you'd let me kneel at your feet and blow the king of the mountain first, before getting to the tedious questions. I promise not to bite," she invited with a grin.

"I think I'd rather take my chances with a cobra, Susan. Thanks."

"So Lee told you about me, did he?" Her eyes flicked to the mirror and she smirked.

There was a clicking sound and then Lee's voice came through the speaker mounted in the corner of the ceiling, "Susan DiTullio. Simmons' vicious lapdog. It's been awhile, but I remember."

She chuckled and called out, "Right, Lee. You were such an angel back home. And then you turned on us, for what?" She turned back to face Markus and her lip curled in scorn. "Are you fucking him? Or did you buy him with some shiny title in your new empire?"

Markus was about to deny both accusations heatedly, but Malek stopped him, '_No. Do not allow her to provoke you. She will see emotion as a weakness.'_

So he restrained his tone and said, "It's not an empire, Susan. If I'd wanted to conquer and make myself king of half of the country, I could've done it years ago. I'm far more interested in civilization. In bringing people together to rebuild. If there was someone else doing it, I'd follow them, but there's not, there's just me."

"I'd applaud, but …" she drawled and lifted her manacled hands. She leaned forward, not a trace of the seducer left in the cold eyes. "I don't give a shit what lies you tell yourself. Justify it all you want. All you are is a rebel and a traitor, and General Waverly waited too long to fry your ass."

His hands clenched into fists, and his chest seemed to freeze, as he was back there in that dark room with Waverly and Simmons and West pronouncing his execution. It was just a flash and it was gone, but it left him scrabbling for something to say that wouldn't give away that she had rattled him. He hadn't expected Waverly to tell her, though he should have.

"Is that the kind of world you want to live in?" he asked. "Where people are murdered so barbarically?"

"That _**is**_ the world we live in, in case you didn't notice up here on your nice little throne. Don't bullshit me about what a wonderful world this could be if we all held hands," she sneered. "You preach a good line, but it's funny how your enemies keep dropping dead. You are the rabid dog loose on the country, and it's up to me to put you down."

She wasn't going to listen, so there was no point in talking anymore. She had used up all his patience already. "Where's the bomb?" he demanded.

"What bomb?" she retorted with a smile.

"Tell me where it is," he said. "You can go free, I don't care, just tell me where it is." He frowned, hearing his words echoed faintly in another voice. But it wasn't Malek.

She widened her eyes in mockery and shivered. "And if I don't tell? Are you going to hurt me? Tie me up and do what you want to me? Oooh, please don't throw me into the briar patch," she cooed.

She sounded like she meant it too. God, he really was going to throw up. She laughed at him. "No, you're too weak, aren't you? You're not going to hurt me, I can tell. And don't try telling me I'll die too, because that's a small price to pay for taking you out."

"There are children who live here," he protested, fighting growing rage. How could she just sit there? "They've never done anything! They're innocent. You can't want to murder them! Nobody could be that cruel."

But he was wrong. "It's not like you don't have time," she said with a shrug. "If you're too stupid to evacuate, well, that's not my fault, is it?"

"Tell me where the bomb is," he repeated, more coldly, trying to keep a grip on himself. But she was wrong if she thought he couldn't do anything to her. He had learned a lot from her masters. He had learned pain and fear and despair -- he'd always been a quick study. "Tell me what you did with it. Tell me, or by God, I will -- "

The echo was back, a sibilant murmur in his ears.

..._Tell me about the Big Death, Markus. Tell me the access codes for the computer. Tell me how many guns, how many men --'_

Markus shoved himself away from the table, heart suddenly pounding. He was dimly aware of Susan staring at him, startled by his reaction, but his overwhelming feeling was of panic, rising like a thick paralyzing liquid up his throat, choking him. The left side of his chest was on fire with a piercing pain.

He moved backward to the door and fumbled for the knob, when it turned under his hand and the door opened.

"Markus?" Daniel's concerned voice was echoed internally by Malek.

At first he couldn't speak at all. He rushed into the other room to stand at the back wall and focus his eyes on the dull gray paint to try to get his head back together.

Malek extended some soothing feeling which helped to calm his suddenly racing heart and the pain went away. '_Simmons is not here, Markus, and your ribs are healed. It was memory, nothing more.'_

'_I know.'_ But it had felt so real … He put his head against the cool surface of the wall, inhaling the vaguely metallic scent of old paint. '_Couldn't you make it go away?'_

'_I could,' _ Malek admitted, '_But that would require my taking control and that seemed likely to frighten you more.'_

"Markus?" That was Erin this time, standing close beside him. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Did she do something?"

He shook his head and inhaled a deep steadying breath, before turning around. Thankfully someone'd had the presence of mind to send the two guards into the room with Susan and shut the doors. He wanted to sink into the floor, especially when he saw the sympathy and concern on their faces. Managing a sheepish smile, he said, "I guess I just blew my chance to not have everyone hover around me all the time, didn't I?"

"Pretty much," Jack agreed cheerfully, but his gaze was full of understanding.

"Are you feeling better?" Daniel asked. "Should we go someplace else?"

"No, I'm okay. It wasn't her." He nodded toward the window, behind which Susan was sitting again with a more thoughtful frown on her face. Probably wondering how she could turn his breakdown to her advantage, he thought sourly. He drew in a long breath to keep his voice steady. "I -- I guess I'm not quite as well as I thought."

"Here, sit down," Daniel pushed one of the wheeled chairs at him. "You still look a bit shocky."

His legs were grateful to sit down, and his hands were trembling when he rubbed his face. After he got his brain working again, he looked up at his friends. "She's right about one thing -- we should evacuate."

"I think that's exactly what she wants you to do," Jack said, folding his arms and glancing at the blonde in the other room. "You open the doors to get everyone out, and West falls on top of you. We know he's got at least a dozen choppers with him, so he can get here quickly if he's not that far away. In fact, he could already have snipers and rocket launchers on the ridge opposite, waiting for the doors to open. That's what I'd do."

"Yes, that's a risk," Markus agreed. They could already be under siege and just not know it yet, but it didn't matter. He straightened, feeling more like his normal self again. "But there's practically an entire case of C4 missing. That's a certainty. I can't risk the entire population of the mountain for 'maybe' there are enemies in the hills. There are one hundred and eighteen kids here between newborn and fourteen. Would you be able to live with yourself if they get killed by the next bomb?" he asked rhetorically, "because I sure wouldn't."

"Assuming there is another bomb," Erin put in. "We don't know that she had the time to put it together, arm it, and put it someplace or not."

"Therefore she must still answer questions," Teal'c declared.

"Oh, she's going to answer some questions all right," Lee said, with a threatening glare at the window.

"Why not," Daniel started hesitantly, looking from Markus to Jack, "until there's confirmation, evacuate the children up to the first floor? Don't open the doors, keep everyone in the garage. As I recall, the garage floor is hardened and thick, since it's the roof above NORAD. Since she's not likely to put the bomb in the garage itself, that's probably the safest place in the whole mountain."

Finally a sensible suggestion. Markus pushed himself back to his feet. "Yes, good idea, Daniel. I think that'll be enough salve on my conscience for now. Lee, if you'll pass the word to Sarah and Andrew and Kate to get that going."

"Okay," Lee nodded. "What else do you want me to do?"

Markus couldn't help looking at Susan through the window and felt his face harden. She was _**not**_ going to get away with destroying his home or threaten children under his protection. "Question that bitch. You, and Jack, and Teal'c. You can promise her freedom, but not Waverly's. He stays here. I have plans for him." He opened his mouth to say that he didn't care how they got the information from her, but the words wouldn't come out.

Hadn't he said he didn't want to build a new nation built on a foundation of blood? Hadn't he always said that he wanted something _**better**_ than the world the previous generation had, not the same thing? But how could he just let her sit there in silence, gloating, when she was threatening to destroy everything anyway?

Malek said, '_You have two paths: you may hold to your principles and risk the loss of life, or lose your principles in the hope that you save lives. Neither outcome is certain. But I can tell you from watching Valhalla Sector, that once torture becomes a permissible method of information gathering, it grows easier to resort to it, again and again. You have experienced the end of that path, Markus. Do you want to start down it yourself?'_

Put that way there was only one answer, but it was not without irony that it was Malek telling him these things. '_Weren't you the one arguing that sparing Waverly's life is about the stupidest and short-sighted thing I could do, even for a higher ideal?'_

'_True. But you were right, and you found a better solution. You held to principle for him. Do the same here, even though -- or perhaps especially because -- you are angry at her.'_

He nodded slightly and turned back to Lee. "You can scare and threaten her as much as you like, I don't care. But don't hurt her. If she won't tell us, then we'll have to find it ourselves."

"I understand," Lee said.

"And what are the rest of us doing?" Erin asked, realizing she'd been left out of the list on purpose.

He glanced around, to double-check that they were all alone. It still felt odd to mention her name in the open though. "I'm going to talk to Meaghan, and you and Daniel are coming with me. You and she need to know something, and I'd rather explain only once."

"Now?" Erin questioned, a puzzled frown on her face.

His already frayed patience snapped. "I thought you'd like to find out what everyone else in this room already knows, but if you don't want to, you don't have to," he said and started for the door. "Lee, if there's a problem, you know where I'll be. Use the phone."

Erin heaved a sigh and came after him. "All right, all right. Sorry. I'm coming."

He didn't need Malek's wordless criticism to feel badly about snarling at her. In the corridor he stopped, closed his eyes briefly, and turned to Erin. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to be so sharp with you."

Her eyes were kind and understanding, as she put a hand on his arm. "I know, Markus. I know you're not entirely yourself right now, and that's okay. I'm not going to be mad, I'm worried about you. I know things were much worse in Valhalla than you're telling me."

He swallowed hard. "They were," he admitted and couldn't look her in the face. "Come on. I only want to do this once. And if I can't do it at all, Daniel can."

Markus started off again, but as he approached Meaghan's section, ushering Erin and Daniel into the locked-down section, his footsteps slowed. '_Erin's right, I shouldn't be doing this now. This is purely personal, and I have more important things I should be doing --'_

But Malek saw right through his excuses to the heart of his reluctance. '_And is your Meaghan so narrow-minded then?'_ Malek asked.

'_No!'_ he defended her automatically. But Malek was right -- he was afraid that she wasn't going to be able to accept what had happened to him. That it was going to change them.

'_Of course it will change your relationship,'_ Malek soothed. '_My existence and her freedom will change it, you know this. Yet perhaps it will be for the better, Markus. Your lives are but halves now, separated by glass. Only when she is free will you have the chance to become whole and one together. It may be that your love will not survive the change, but I doubt it. Your Meaghan is a wise and loving woman. I think you wrong her, if you believe her feelings are dependent on the walls of her prison.'_

Markus hoped that was true.

\---+---

Jack watched the others leave and the door close behind them. He wasn't surprised that Markus was showing some after-affects of what had happened to him, but he was also hopeful the young leader would be all right. Markus was probably doing the right thing, by going to see and talk to Meaghan. As much as Jack himself had never really been able to talk about all of his various traumas, even to Sara, he suspected Markus would find it helpful.

Either way, the best thing that Jack could do to help him right now, was to find the bomb somewhere inside this bunker. And that meant interrogating the saboteur sitting in the other room.

He turned to meet Teal'c's gaze. "I am **so** not looking forward to this."

"I am," Lee said. "Thunder Mountain's my home and I'm not letting Simmons destroy us from the grave. But I've got to go get the kids upstairs." He cast a rather longing look at Susan through the window and turned his back. "Hopefully you two can get it out of her by the time I get back."

When he was gone, Jack exchanged another glance with Teal'c, who opened the door, and they went in. Jack gestured the two guards out of the room and shut the door behind them.

Susan got a good look at him and her eyes narrowed. "Well, if it isn't the traitor O'Neill. The general told me you were here, kissing Markus' ass just like Lee."

Jack ignored the provocation and swung the chair around to straddle it. "Tell me something, Susan. Why on Earth do you care about that bunch of losers in Valhalla Sector? The whole thing was rotten to the core -- it fell apart in less than a day. Emerson and Simmons are dead; most of Simmons' band of thugs are dead with him. The old regime is gone. There's nothing left for you to be loyal **to**."

She snorted. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? Hope it helps. Because I know where my loyalties are, even if you don't. And they're sure as hell not with this pathetic band of rebels."

Jack had the momentary urge to smack some sense into her or pound his own head against the desk. Appealing to her better nature wasn't going to work, since she apparently didn't have one. Appealing to practical sense wasn't going to work, since she didn't have any of that either. She was a fanatic, pure and simple. Getting the secret from her was going to take time. And time was in short supply.

From where he was standing against the wall opposite the window, Teal'c said unexpectedly, "Colonel West is a prisoner at Millhaven."

Jack very carefully didn't react to that news, given in Teal'c's usual matter-of-fact tone. But Susan did. She jerked and turned her head, spitting, "You lie!"

Grim satisfaction filled Jack, at what she'd given away. There was a plan, and West was a part of it. They'd been right; she was here to force the doors open. Rescuing Waverly had been a bonus.

Teal'c answered with glacial calm, "You are completely without external support. Speak of the explosive device and you may salvage your own life."

She wavered, glancing down at her manacles. Jack was hopeful for about a tenth of a second that she might actually give it up, but when she looked up again, with a scornful look, he knew it wasn't going anywhere either. "Right. Like I'm going to believe anything a traitor like you says. If West were really a prisoner, Markus would've said."

"I guess he forgot," Jack said, with a nonchalant shrug.

She smiled, with gleeful satisfaction, "Yeah, maybe he did. It was something to watch him freak out. Colonel Simmons must've done a number on him. Can you tell me what?" she asked, with an eagerness that Jack suspected was only partially feigned. "Did he make Markus dance? That's always fun to watch." Her pointer fingers mimed a little can-can dance on the tabletop.

Jack was not going to ask what it was. He didn't want to know what Simmons and this nasty girl thought was 'fun', but he hoped Markus hadn't been involved.

But Teal'c took one step away from the wall, drawing both Jack and Susan's attention. The Jaffa was still wearing his stoic face, but now his eyes were narrow with anger and his jaw had tightened. "You would take pleasure in the pain of others? Then it shall be just retribution for your victims to force the location of the explosive from you."

"You wouldn't dare," she said, raising her chin proudly, but shrinking back in her chair away from him.

"Would I not?" Teal'c answered flatly. "Markus Alexander bid us not to harm you, that is true. But we are not his slaves -- we may make our own decisions. My decision is that the innocent lives you threaten are worth more than you."

Jack tensed so he wouldn't lean away from his friend, too, as Teal'c unleashed "Apophis' Scary First Prime" again. He believed Teal'c, even though he also knew Teal'c had no intention of carrying out his threat to hurt her.

But if Teal'c was gonna play 'bad cop' that left Jack to play 'good cop', and he could do that. "Murray, good buddy," he cautioned, "let's not get carried away. Markus is gonna be mad if he finds out."

"Yeah," Susan agreed, "wouldn't want Markus mad at you, would you?" She laughed. "God, what's he gonna do, O'Neill? Pat you on the head and send you to bed without supper?"

He gave her a long look and shook his head. "You are incredibly stupid, aren't you? I'm trying to help, and here you go, getting all sarcastic and making Murray more angry. Guess I should just shut up and let him do what he wants."

"Oh, were you trying to_**save**_ me?" she retorted sarcastically. "Silly me, I thought you were trying to manipulate me." She leaned back in her chair, all at ease. "Well, go ahead, boys. Let's see if you really are willing to do what needs to be done. Come on," she taunted. "I'm right here. You can hit me. Slap me. Break my fingers. Two big strong guys like you could probably have a good time raping me on the table. You can break me into little bitty pieces and I'll tell you whatever you want."

When neither Jack nor Teal'c moved or spoke, she gave a slow triumphant smile. "Didn't think so. You're pathetic. Weak. And that's why you're going to get exactly what you deserve."

Jack took a long slow breath into his lungs, keeping a grip on his temper. It was gonna be a long night.

\---+---

Daniel trailed along behind Markus and Erin. He knew why Markus wanted him along -- to give the background on the Goa'uld and Tok'ra, as he had done in the car to Kurdy. It made him a little nervous, realizing how important this was to Markus. Yet he was also curious to meet Meaghan. Sam had met her, and said she seemed amazingly sane for a woman who'd been in a prison cell with only one other person to talk to for a dozen years. Daniel understood Meaghan's connection to Markus as a psychological dependence, but he also knew how much Markus loved and depended on her in return. With beautiful and intelligent women all around him in the mountain, how and why had he chosen someone both inaccessible and many years his senior?

Markus used a number pad to access a locked hatch-door, and they entered one of the quarantine rooms. The room behind the glass was brightly lit. Meaghan was curled into an armchair, reading a book, but set it aside when she saw who was coming in.

Daniel understood part of Markus' attraction right away. Meaghan was a beautiful woman, with a warm and kind smile that brightened the whole room. She was older than Markus, but not by that much, and her dark hair had only a few thin silver streaks through it. It was hard to believe that she was a carrier for a deadly disease that had wiped out billions of people fifteen years before.

"You must be Daniel," she said, turning her attention to him. Her voice came through the speaker set above the window and more faintly through the window itself, which was odd at first, but after a little while he stopped noticing.

"That's right," he nodded. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pull up a chair," Markus told him and Erin, and settled in the chair at the end of the small table set up against the window. They gathered two smaller chairs from the back of the room where there was a terminal and some monitoring equipment.

He took a deep breath and started, looking from Erin to Meaghan. "Before I get to the point, I want you both to know that you are the most important people in my life. That hasn't changed, and that's the reason I have to tell you this. It's my hope that when you hear it that you won't feel differently about _**me**_ either. But …" he shrugged a little, uncomfortably, "I guess I'll find out, but no matter what, you both need to know. This is about what happened in Valhalla Sector. I haven't been … exactly honest with either of you." Erin snorted softly, in a definite 'no kidding' way. He went on, "It's not an easy thing to talk about and it's more complicated than you can imagine. So I'm going to let Daniel start. With Seth, I think," he suggested and Daniel nodded.

That made sense. So Daniel started with Seth, explaining about the Goa'uld, who and what they were. Why they were dangerous. Erin nodded impatiently, listening, and no doubt wondering what this had to do with Markus. Meaghan listened, with no outward sign of impatience, but she barely took her eyes off Markus. Daniel wondered how much she was guessing already.

He then went into the basics of the Tok'ra, emphasizing their differences from the Goa'uld and especially how the host's mind and personality remained the same, even though there was another personality now sharing the body. With Markus' nodded permission, he also explained how Martouf and Jolinar were Tok'ra. Both women were surprised by this, but Erin nodded as if their oddness had been properly explained.

Markus took up the story then. "When Daniel and I were captured and taken to Valhalla Sector, Waverly and his intel director, Colonel Simmons, wanted to know about our defenses, our numbers, allies, everything. And I wouldn't tell them." He watched his hands, fingers idly tapping the surface. "The first thing Simmons tried to do to force it from me was to drug it out of me. It was administered by one of Waverly's doctors, Gordon Fukizaki, who was also in charge of their Big Death project."

He paused and Daniel listened, curious himself, since he'd never gotten any of the details for what had happened while Markus had been gone.

Markus went on to explain, more haltingly, how he'd figured out that the drug had been altered. He skipped over the shock torture that had followed, to describe how Fukizaki had come to visit him in the cell and make sure he was okay. "And then," he glanced up at Daniel, "you discovered something about our friend."

"Right. I did. Gordon Fukizaki was actually a Tok'ra," he said, carefully not mentioning Malek's name yet, since Erin had heard it in the gateroom when they'd arrived. "He'd come to this planet fifteen years ago to help cure the Big Death. Trapped in Valhalla Sector, he put his skills as an agent to good use and worked against Waverly's achieving the Big Death. As he told us, he couldn't prevent the research entirely -- Waverly wanted it too badly -- but he did what he could to sabotage the research, helping Devon, Jeremiah's dad, secretly. Gordon wanted to help us escape."

Markus added, "But by that point I wasn't well. Simmons wanted his answer. Our third day -- fourth day? --" he asked, frowning in confusion. "Anyway, Gordon discovered that I had two broken ribs and was bleeding internally. There was nothing he could do to fix it either, only if we could get out of Valhalla Sector and he could use one of his alien devices."

Meaghan gave him a worried once-over, clutching the arms of her chair, "And that's what he did?" she asked. "Because you're fine now. Right? That's what you said."

"I'm fine," he reassured her and Erin, too. "Daniel? You can tell the rest. I don't remember very much of how we got out."

That couldn't be true, Daniel knew, since Malek also had memories of it. But if Markus didn't want to tell it, Daniel was fine with doing it for him. So Daniel described how Jack and Charlie had helped them, and Devon had been left behind to die and the marines had saved them. Then he took a deep breath, tried to frame his words very carefully and told them how Ramirez had shot Gordon in the back. "Jack and I pulled Gordon and Markus into the tunnel and secured it behind us."

He took a deep breath to explain the rest. "Gordon, or I should say Chuan, which was the real name of the host, was dying. And so was Markus. He was deep in shock by then, from blood-loss and other injuries. He would've died, but there was another option, and that's what we did." He could see that Meaghan already knew, and she was looking at Markus in amazement, but not with fear. Markus wasn't looking at either of them, just staring at the table, sitting tensely, waiting for their reactions.

Daniel finished simply, "Markus accepted the Tok'ra Malek and they are now together."

Erin's eyes widened and she scooted her chair back from the table. "'Malek'?" she repeated. "Markus? What does -- are you still -- what does this mean?" she asked, in a trembling voice. "Isn't that what they called you before?"

"Yes," he answered, still refusing to raise his eyes. "I don't know if it's fate or what, but apparently I became host to Malek in Daniel's reality too. And yes, I'm still me, though I don't expect you to believe that. But it means that there is someone else in here, with me. Someone who has a different mind and thoughts. But mostly what it means, and the reason I had to tell you this --" he took a deep breath and looked up to meet Meaghan's gaze. "Malek understands the Big Death. He is confident that he can cure you."

That shocked her, as even the revelation that there was an alien in his head had not. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, as her already pale skin suddenly looked tinged with frost. "He can --" she whispered, and her hands pressed against her chest in agitation. "Really? Truly?"

Markus nodded and swallowed. He put his hand flat against the glass. "Yes. He -- We -- can cure you. You can be free, Meaghan. Soon you can leave this cell and step outside." His breaths were unsteady as he continued, "I promised you someday you could feel the sun on your face -- and now I can. We can."

She didn't speak, only stare at him in shock.

"Please don't be frightened of me," he said to her, his voice cracking in his anguish. "I had to come back. To finally set you free."

Color came back in her face, as tears started to roll silently down her cheeks. "I know," she whispered. Her hand trembled as she lifted it to press against the window, matching his. "I could never be afraid of you, Markus. Never. You came back to me and that's all that matters."

He bent his head to rest it against the glass, shoulders shaking. "Even if I didn't come back alone?"

"Even then," she reassured him softly.

Daniel very quietly stood, though he was sure that Markus and Meaghan were in their own world and wouldn't notice anything at all. Erin was watching them, her expression oddly shattered, and it took a moment for Daniel to catch her eye. When he did, he gestured for her to get up and follow him out. What they were watching was intensely personal, and he felt like an intruder.

Erin joined him out in the hall, as he made sure the door was locked before turning to her in concern. "Are you okay with this?"

"It's -- it's so much to take in," she said, sounding lost. "He was really gonna die?"

Daniel nodded.

She swallowed hard. "She knew. She told me two days ago. How could she know that?" Her gaze hoped Daniel could explain it, but he had no answers.

"I've seen a lot of amazing things traveling through the gate," he said. "Some of it is technology so far beyond us it might as well be magic, and some of it, I don't know, maybe it really is magic. In any case, we can't explain it. It just is." He tried to smile at her, reassuringly touching her shoulder. "Markus really is the same person, Erin. He, um, has an invisible friend now."

She quirked a small unwilling smile at "invisible friend", then glanced back at the door and let out a small sigh before turning away. "I guess. I'm glad he told me." She inhaled a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "We'll let them deal. I've should go check on the evacuation and how things are going with Susan."

The Susan part was easy enough. They found Lee, Jack and Teal'c taking a break in the observation room.

"Nothin'," Jack reported to Erin in disgust. "There's a bomb. That much I can pretty much guarantee. But every time I think she might spill something, she stops. And now she's not talking at all."

"I was going to take her back to her cell for the night," Lee said, sounding and looking as frustrated as Jack. "We're all getting tired. And I know I'm going to hit her if she keeps provoking the shit out of me like this."

"Me, too," Jack added, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He added more reasonably, "It doesn't help that she thinks both Lee and I are traitors. Maybe tomorrow morning you can have some other people do this so she won't have such an automatic rejection of every single thing we say."

Erin nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe I should do it," she gazed at the other blonde woman thoughtfully. "I'll get Theo to help."

Lee snorted a laugh. "If you can keep Theo from killing her."

"All right, take her back," Erin said to him. "We'll start fresh in the morning. Assuming of course the bomb doesn't go off tonight," she added wryly. "I'm going up to the garage to see how it's going. Markus is still ... busy, I don't know how long he'll be."

Leaving Lee to handle transferring Susan back to the brig down the hall, Daniel, Teal'c and Jack followed Erin up to the first floor.

They could hear the sounds of kids shouting and laughing. When they went in, it looked like pure chaos, with little kids chasing each other around the cavernous space, older kids climbing the cars parked on the sides, and parents futilely trying to restore order. The only ones not doing any of it were the handful of young teenagers standing in a small group off to the side, pretending they were above all the fun.

Daniel glanced at Erin to see her reaction. She had her arms folded, but a smile on her face as she watched. Andrew and Sarah came up to her and Sarah shook her head with a broad shrug, saying, "They're all here. Now whether they'll _**sleep**_ or not…"

Jack chuckled. "It's a giant slumber party. Of course they're not going to sleep. Put the overheads off," he gestured up to the big banks of flourescents, "that'll help. Then we'll do a little singing, and Daniel here will tell some stories -- he's good at that -- it'll be fun." He waded off into the melee with a grin, paying no attention to Daniel's sputtered denial or Erin and Andrew sharing a glance at his taking charge.

Daniel followed in his wake, completely unsurprised that Jack did get everyone settled, with help, and ended up with a little girl on his lap. Daniel started to tell the condensed version of the story of Gilgamesh, which managed to hold most of the kids' attention.

Toward the end, he happened to glance up and see Markus in the shadows by the door. There was no way to tell how long he'd been there, and apparently no one else had noticed him yet. In the moment when he didn't know anyone was looking at him, he looked fragile, as though imagining the scene of the happy children before him dissolved into destruction and death. He noticed Daniel's attention and gave him a little nod, but didn't move from his contemplation.

Some of the kids followed Daniel's gaze. One preschool age girl got to her feet and practically flew over to Markus. She insisted on a hug and then took his hand, drawing him into the crowd.

An older boy asked for "the special story", and soon the others were adding their pleas, until Markus gave in, and sat down.

"All right, all right. But only the first part, and then everyone's going to sleep," he said sternly. The kids agreed eagerly and urged him to start, falling quiet in bright-eyed anticipation as Markus began.

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…"


	39. Chapter 39

Erin yawned, wishing she'd had the chance to sleep longer or better. But sleeping on the floor had given her bad dreams of the Big Death, and she'd finally decided just to wake up. She couldn't face breakfast yet, but thought she might as well bring food for the prisoners and see about transferring Susan to the interrogation room. So she carried one tray while Victor carried the other. Her young helper had volunteered to do it himself, but Erin hadn't thought that was wise. Victor was clueless about the corruption of Valhalla Sector, or the depths anyone from there would sink. She didn't want him to face the two of them and their taunts alone.

The guards at the door smiled at Erin as they unlocked the outer door. She entered first and wrinkled her nose, catching a strange scent that reminded her of the Big Death. She shrugged it away as a relic of her bad dreams and walked over to the front of Waverly's cell. He was sitting up on his cot. "Good morning," she said with saccharine sweetness.

He gave her an answering smile, but his was more genuine, which set her nerves more on edge. There was nothing for him to be happy about, so what secret thought gave him pleasure?

A gasp behind her made her pivot. Victor was staring into the other cell with a look of horror. There was a pool of blood on the floor of the cell. Inside, the woman was lying on her cot, and a partially uncoiled cot spring was sticking out of her wrist. Erin felt the bile rise in her throat. Susan had committed suicide.

Erin spun around and confronted Waverly again. He returned her glare with bland unconcern and a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Did you do this, you son of a bitch?" she accused. "Did you con her into believing taking her own life was her duty?" Sickened and furious, Erin put the tray on the floor, well out of reach. He didn't deserve to eat.

She rushed to the door. "Call Markus," she told the guards. "Susan's killed herself." She grabbed Victor by the arm and dragged him out of the room. Her stomach was rolling and she needed to get as far away as possible.

\---+---

Daniel followed Jack down the corridor on level 20, heading for the level's weapons storage room. It had been checked already, as had all the areas containing other things that might explode and enhance what Susan had stolen. But Markus had wanted them to check around the armory, in the surrounding rooms and conduits.

He had wanted to come do it himself, until Erin, Daniel, and Jack all together had managed to get him to wait in his office where he could be easily found. It hadn't been easy. Susan's death had convinced him she'd planted another bomb and he knew that time was running out.

They reached the room that was also an armory in their world, and Jack pulled the small flashlight off his vest to check up in the pipes of the ceiling.

Daniel followed suit, knowing full well that Jack was far more likely to find something. "So, you think Markus is right?"

"Yeah," Jack answered, peering upward. "She didn't want us to get the location from her. Or at least that scumbag Waverly didn't want us to get it from her. I'm sure he told her to kill herself and like a good little soldier she followed orders." He shook his head in disgust. "It's amazing anyone in Valhalla can think for himself, really, with that tin-hat dictator in charge for so long. It's probably a good thing Markus has first dibs on him, or I might express my displeasure at what he did to my country and my military more … forcefully."

Daniel shook his head, though he didn't really disagree. Markus had been pretty forceful in expressing his displeasure as it was. When he'd come to the brig earlier, he'd glared at the general and spat, "Let me make this clear -- if there is a bomb and it goes off, I will _not_ evacuate you. No one gets put at risk to save such a pathetic excuse of a human being."

"Colonel West knows his duty," Waverly had replied smugly. "And when he takes this place, he knows what to do with you, too."

Somehow Markus reached through, grabbed Waverly's shirt and yanked him forward, slamming him into the bars, before Daniel had seen him move. Keeping Waverly smashed up hard against the iron, Markus snarled, "West will _never_ have this place. He will never put one foot through the doors, I promise you that."

His fist had tightened the shirt up against Waverly's neck. But at the moment Daniel thought he might have to intervene, Markus had shoved Waverly away so hard the general stumbled and fell against the cot. Markus had left without another word.

Daniel followed Jack into a former office now supply room next to the armory, and they looked all around. There were shelves full of bottles of various cleaners, including bleach, which got Jack's attention, shining his little light to the back of the shelves. Finding nothing, he aimed it up at the ceiling and one of the omni-present ducts. "If she put it up in there somewhere we will never find it, Daniel."

"There are two teams looking in the ducts," Daniel reminded him.

Jack turned his head to raise his brows. "And do you know how many_miles_ of ducting there are in this place?"

"Well, no," Daniel admitted, "Lots, I'm sure. But she wouldn't put the bomb in just some random pipe, would she? Our assumption all along has been that she wanted to do serious damage, enough to force Markus to open the doors."

"Which means fire or flood or a damn hurricane for all I know," Jack said, sounding frustrated as he headed for the door again. "And I agree. But there's a lot of things that can go boom and do damage down here."

Fire and flood got Daniel thinking about the apocalypse and one of the horsemen everyone seemed to have forgotten despite its being what had made this world. "Uh, Jack?"

In the hall, Jack faced him, with a wary look. "I know that face. Out with it, Jackson."

Daniel looked up and down the hall to make sure they were alone. "What about disease?" he asked softly. "Can the bomb break the containment around Meaghan?"

Jack hadn't met her yet, but he knew she carried the Big Death virus. He looked at Daniel for a full three seconds and then said, "Shit. You do come up with some bad ideas, you know that?" He reached up, rubbed his forehead tiredly and then shook his head. "She's a big secret, isn't she? You pretty much said that Markus was going to kill himself to make sure Waverly didn't learn about her. So how on Earth would Susan find out?"

"I'm not suggesting she placed the bomb near Meaghan on purpose, but what if the explosion stops the filters from working or the power gets cut and the virus escapes?"

"It doesn't work that way," Jack replied. "Those hazmat labs are sealed, Daniel. If the power goes off, air doesn't go _in_. Nothing can come out. But," Jack heaved a breath, "Susan could get lucky, I suppose. If the force of the blast manages to crack that chamber open, we could have a problem."

Daniel replied soberly, "That's what I thought."

It was at least an hour later when Daniel's stomach growled. He'd been tramping around the corridors since well before dawn, and they hadn't eaten or found a bomb.

He leaned against the wall and sighed. "We're not gonna find it in time, are we?" he asked bleakly. Because they were both sure there was one -- no one had found the missing materiel lying around either.

"It hasn't gone off yet," Jack said and shrugged. "Maybe we got lucky. The timer's fifteen years old, after all, maybe it just didn't work. Listen, why don't you go topside and get something to eat? I want to check on Carter. She's supposed to be hooking up the generator about now."

"You need breakfast as much as I do," Daniel countered, but readily stood up. He felt guilty to admit it to himself, but he did want a break.

The two men walked to the elevator and Jack called it. The doors opened, revealing Teal'c and Sarah.

"Howdy, folks," Jack greeted them. "Going up?"

"We are," Teal'c nodded in the affirmative.

Daniel entered first, with Jack at his heels. Jack punched the button for twenty-five. Daniel thought about joining him, eager to find out how close Sam was to getting them home, but decided on breakfast instead.

Jack left the elevator on twenty-five and waved goodbye with a cheerful grin while the doors closed.

\---+---

Erin walked down the hall with Jeremiah, trying to feel how he was dealing with things. It seemed he had slept the night and he looked less strung out and haunted. He had joined in the search early this morning, and the activity seemed to do him some good.

Most of the residents had stayed overnight up on the ground level, but many of the qualified personnel had taken shifts below to continue the search. Andrew had organized the distribution of breakfast so no one would have to return below -- just in case. Erin had observed this all with trepidation. While the move for one night was a good idea, there was no way this would work for long.

Brian and Steve had called in from Fort Carson to say that their return trip had been uneventful and so far they couldn't see any signs of a military occupation anywhere near Thunder Mountain. While this relieved Erin, Jack had warned her not to get too comfortable. They could still be out there, just hidden or not far away.

They came to Markus' office. Erin opened the door to find Markus having a conversation, or really an argument, with himself, out loud. Quickly realizing that it was Malek he was talking to, she called loudly as she entered, "Markus?"

He started at the sound, but fortunately went quiet. When he turned, he looked calm, but his knuckles were white as they clenched the back of his chair. She knew he had risen before her, if he'd slept at all, and prowled the corridors, searching for the bomb himself. She wondered if he and Malek were fighting over going to search for it again.

"Yes, Erin? Jeremiah?" he demanded. "Did you find something?"

"I think I'll be of more use outside, looking for West and his soldiers," Jeremiah announced.

"No," Markus responded flatly. "I need you in here. We have to find the bomb before it goes off." There was desperation in his voice that Erin hadn't heard before, and she found it very unsettling. Markus was supposed to be the calm center of things, not anxious.

"We haven't found shit," Jeremiah replied. "I don't think she planted another. There wasn't time. It's all a ruse to get us outside to--"

The room lurched around them and a thunderous boom made the walls vibrate and heave. Erin grabbed at the desk to keep her feet, as one of the African violet pots rocked to the edge and fell. The ceiling light fixtures swayed, and pieces of tile fell. Books tumbled off the shelves.

All the lights flickered and went out. Everything was suddenly silent. It was a quiet Erin had never heard in the Mountain before. "Markus?" Erin called out, her quivering voice sounding loud in the darkness.

When he finally replied, his tone seemed oddly relieved. "The bomb found us."

\---+---

The elevator had just glided past the sixth level when the floor jerked, flinging the three passengers into the walls. Teal'c and Daniel flanked Sarah, grabbing her when the elevator shuddered to a halt. For a second the lights blared more brightly and then went out, leaving them in total darkness.

Teal'c could sense the panic mounting in Sarah. She had crowded close to him, and one of her hands was clutching his forearm. His instincts wanted him to free himself, but he stayed still, allowing her time to calm herself.

Daniel removed a flashlight from his vest and passed the beam over Teal'c and Sarah. "Are you both okay?" he asked.

"Um, yeah," Sarah answered, slightly out of breath. "Just a bit shaky."

"I am uninjured, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c answered.

"Guess that was our bomb," Daniel added, turning his flashlight upward to the ceiling

"It felt like it was below us," Sarah said, letting go of his arm. In the dim light from Daniel's flashlight, she seemed to be controlling her fear. "Markus and Erin are down there."

"I think we'd better worry about ourselves for the moment," Daniel suggested. "This elevator's not a safe place to be right now." He glanced at Teal'c. "Could you give me a boost so I can take a look into the shaft?"

Teal'c agreed with that plan and bent to assist Daniel into the roof hatch, passing him the flashlight when he was secure.

"Good thing we're close to the ground floor," Sarah said.

"Yeah, but if we fall, it's a long way down," Daniel added. "I see a ladder, so we can climb up. We should be able to pry the doors open."

Scrambling out and taking a few steps across the car's roof out of sight, Daniel called down, "The ladder's sturdy. Still in good shape."

Teal'c lifted Sarah through the hatch and pulled himself out behind her. Slowly, they began their laborious climb upwards.

\---+---

Markus stood in the dark silence, holding his breath to listen. He could hear both Jeremiah and Erin breathing, and one of them hit one of the rolling chairs, nudging it across the floor. The ceiling groaned. He could hear more distant sounds faintly, but nothing of the noise of the ventilation system. It wasn't coming back on, and neither were the lights. This was bad.

The batteries from the emergency lights in the room had been cannibalized long ago, to keep the lights and smoke detectors active in more vital areas of the mountain. But he kept a flashlight in the credenza, if he could find it. He started cautiously feeling his way there. The darkness was so absolute he felt like he could see more with his eyes closed.

_'Don't suppose you can make our eyes glow to light the way_?' he asked Malek.

_'I can make them flash, but it will only serve to aid your companions in locating us.'_

Since that wasn't very helpful, Markus continued on, fingers tracing the bookshelves until he found the back edge and the lower counter of the credenza.

Jeremiah muttered, "Well, I can't see a fucking thing. This sucks."

"Yeah, no kidding," Erin answered. After a moment, she asked, "Markus, I hear you moving around -- what are you doing?"

He opened the drawer and felt carefully for the flashlight. Praying the batteries were still good, he flicked it on and waved it triumphantly. "This."

The light was feeble, but seemed bright in the pitch darkness. Erin and Jeremiah were standing close together, brushing shoulders, but stepped apart when the light reached them. Markus was faintly amused, but said nothing. He went to the windows and waved the light into the cafeteria -- it wasn't nearly bright enough to reach the floor, but hopefully anyone who was down there could see the glow and would know to make their way upstairs.

His hand began to shake, making the light quiver. He felt a cold rage building inside him. This was his Mountain -- his home -- and again Valhalla was trying to destroy it. Everything he had built in the last fifteen years, they kept trying to tear down. He kept fighting them back and they kept coming. Maybe now they'd found the blow that he couldn't fight.

_'But this time you have me to help you_,' Malek silently reminded him.

_'And you're going to use your alien gizmos to make this all go away?'_Markus retorted, irritated by what seemed to be Malek's patronizing. _'Exactly how are you going to help?'_

Calmly Malek answered, '_By supporting you. You are not alone, Markus.'_

No, he wasn't, and that was both a comfort and a troubling reminder, especially with the eerie quiet. If power wasn't coming back on, that meant damage to one of the distribution nodes or the generators themselves. Given how forceful the blast had felt, he was pretty certain it had been set at the node on 25. "Let's go find the damage," he suggested out loud. Without waiting for a response, he left his office with Jeremiah and Erin trailing behind.

Two men were in the hall. "Markus? Is that you?"

Markus recognized Gabriel's voice. "Yes," he answered. "I'm with Erin and Jeremiah. Who's with you and how many are still down there?"

"Victor's behind me. Andrew and five others are still in the kitchen. They were getting some food together to bring upstairs for breakfast."

"Any damage down there?" Erin asked.

"Nothing much. Just no power." Gabriel paused, then asked, "Does this mean we have to take the stairs? Twenty-eight floors is a long way."

"Right now, we just need to go up three," Markus told him, heading towards the stairwell.

"Why?" Jeremiah asked, trailing behind.

"Because," Markus answered, without slowing, "if Sam was on that floor when it blew, she could be in serious trouble. And if that relay was destroyed, like I suspect, we are _all_ in serious trouble."

"But why?" Jeremiah persisted.

"I told you once, remember? Without power this mountain becomes a very big coffin. Come on, people, let's go." The doorway into the stairwell was clear and the stairs looked passable. The six from the cafeteria joined them as they climbed up, carrying makeshift candle-lanterns.

"Markus! Are you okay?" Andrew asked, concern etched in his voice. He turned to Erin and Jeremiah. "Anyone hurt?"

Markus answered, "We're all fine. We just need to get up to twenty-five." He started up the stairs with the others following him. The dust in the air started to accumulate after they had gone up just one floor and he started to smell smoke. They had to step around some chunks of concrete and squeeze past a pile where rubble had fallen from the flight above. Above twenty five, the stairs looked impassable. Markus hoped the wall had collapsed, and not the stairs above them or it was going to be very difficult to clear. Except the elevator and two vertical air shafts with ladders, this stairwell was the only route up and down for the bottom eleven levels.

Markus stepped into hall and gazed around, his sleeve over his nose and mouth. As he had feared, the destruction on this floor was more severe.

Smoke and dust hung heavily in the air, almost solid to the beam of his flashlight. There was a fire in the electrical panel, but that was the only one he could see. Erin yanked an extinguisher off the wall and was able to put it out quickly.

Ignoring the corridor to his left, he went forward toward the visible damage. The force of the explosion had blown out the entire wall between the relay room and the corridor, leaving only ragged ends of bent metal frames and hanging bits of wire. The ceiling in the hallway had come down as well, blocking the corridor, and at least one water pipe was broken, pumping water onto the floor, already a few inches deep. Victor and Gabriel splashed directly to the big wheel at the pipe junction and turned it, effectively shutting off the water to the whole floor.

Erin leaned against the wall, coughing, resting the red cylinder against her knee. "How long can we survive down here without air exchange?" she asked, looking worried.

"Depends on how compromised it is by fumes and fires," Markus answered. "Andrew, take three and look for fires on the other side."

None of the fire alarms had gone off, but that didn't mean much. Most had to be manually pulled, and there were few people down here. If there was a big fire someplace he was going to have a very hard decision to make.

Andrew nodded, knowing how serious this was. He took Erin's extinguisher and another man grabbed the fire ax off the wall, and the four went back the way they'd come to find a way around.

The relay room had once had a door, but it was gone, probably buried under the rubble. He moved closer to the gaping hole in the wall of the corridor. God, if Sam had already reached the room… He swallowed hard and called out, "Sam? Can you hear me?"

"Over here." Her voice was weak, and she coughed to make it stronger. "I can't move."

Pushing aside his relief that she was alive, Markus carefully walked inside the room, gazing with shock at the damage. When he looked upward, he could glimpse of the ceiling of the room above them. The floor was a mess of fallen pipes, tiles, conduit, and metal ducts. His flashlight flicked from one pile to another before it reflected off of her blond hair.

She was in the far corner, shielded from the full force of the blast by the workbench bolted to the floor. A metal cart nearby had not been as lucky; it had slammed into the concrete wall and was a twisted wreck. The ceiling collapse had dumped tile and the aluminum frames on her, plus what looked like an insulation-wrapped I-beam on top of the pile.

Malek groaned inside his head. _'She is beneath a ceiling beam. Very heavy to move_.'

_'But with so many to help and our superior strength, surely it's enough_?'

_'If__ we can all fit in the space provided and have adequate footing to lift it_.'

Markus felt Malek lift his foot and watched as the water dripped from his shoe. It would be slippery, he admitted. "How badly are you hurt?" Markus asked Sam, trying to gauge the best way to tackle the lifting.

"Oh, Sam," Erin cried, coming up alongside Markus. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Sam answered faintly. Markus didn't like how ashen she looked, though hopefully some of it was dust. "I think my leg's broken. And my chest hurts."

Erin looked around. "Was there anyone else with you?"

"At first," she answered. "To help me bring in the necessary tools. But they got in my way, so they left to keep hunting for the bomb." She gasped for breath. "I think they went inside the ducts, behind this room." Her gaze went past him to the back wall, which seemed to have been the epicenter of the blast zone.

Markus knew what that meant. Most likely they were dead. The pain was like a sharp knife in his gut.

'_Markus, we need to focus on Sam_,' Malek reminded him.

"Jeremiah, Gabriel," Markus called out. "Climb over the beam to the other side. Let's try to lift this thing." Malek was right; with so much debris lying around there wasn't much room to maneuver and no footing.

With Victor and one of the cooks standing next to him, they started to lift the beam. Erin grabbed a hold of Sam's free arm to try and pull her out. Markus counted to three and they heaved. At first the beam eased upwards, but it caught on the protruding corner of the workbench. Markus tried to maneuver his end around it, but Gabriel let out a cough and then his feet slipped, coming out from under him. The beam slammed back down, which made her groan in agony before falling silent.

"She's passed out," Erin told him worriedly.

Markus took a look and realized the beam was now not braced by anything, placing even more weight upon her in addition to the fallen debris. "We need to clear some of this out of the way," he suggested and picked up a metal rod as big as his arm, pitching it out into the corridor. His flashlight, perched precariously on the workbench, shone on an odd metallic box on the floor next to the wall, not far from Sam's head. The generator. He looked back to Sam. First things first, get her free; then he'd worry about its condition.

The others followed his lead and began moving as much of the loose stuff from the pile as they could. Markus knelt next to Sam, feeling for a pulse and wishing he had one of those Tok'ra healing devices. Daniel had mentioned them while they'd been locked up at Valhalla, and now knowing he could use one, he wished he'd asked Jolinar and Lantash for one before they'd left. He should have known he'd need one.

_'Stop castigating yourself_,' Malek chided. '_We cannot think of everything. We are only human, you know._'

Markus almost smiled at the symbiote's attempt at humor.

With more of the debris out of the way, they tried lifting the beam again. Markus had better footing himself and was able to lift more of the weight, and had to hide his inward pleasure at his increased strength.

He held the beam, while Erin and Victor dragged Sam out from underneath. They let the beam fall once everyone was clear, and Markus knelt to assess her condition. It was bad. He let Malek make a more accurate assessment: her ribs were probably cracked and strained, perhaps broken. Worse, her left femur was badly fractured, and her knee joint had been crushed, and was bleeding in several places. She would be crippled for the rest of her life if he couldn't get a healing device.

"We need to set up a splint for her," Jeremiah spoke, breaking into his internal assessment.

He and Gabriel found a straight board and began ripping their t-shirts. Erin donated her belt and sneaker laces. Malek set and bandaged Sam's leg the best he could, wrapping it snugly with the strips of clothing. Next he tied her legs to a board to help stabilize them for the journey to the surface. It would be hard to rig a harness to lift her up the air shafts, without further damaging her ribs though.

Suddenly her radio became active. "_Sam? Are you there_?" Daniel's frantic voice echoed in the very quiet room.

Markus pulled it from her vest pocket. "Daniel, it's Markus. Sam was caught in the room where the bomb went off. Her leg is broken badly, but I don't see how we can get her up to the top."

"_You and Teal'c could do it_," Daniel suggested.

"No. Unless you know how to get the power up and running." He couldn't help the annoyed tone and coughed as the smoke caught his throat. "I have to get the circulation system restarted."

There was a pause and then Daniel said, "_We're coming back down. There's a couple of techs up here who say they can help. Is Jack with you_?"

Markus stiffened. "No. Was he supposed to be?"

"_Last time I spoke to him he was making his way to see how Sam was doing. He's not answering his radio_," Daniel added, sounding more worried.

"I'll have the others start looking for him."

There was a pause and Lee's familiar voice came over the radio. "_Markus? You should know we've still got power up here and the outside cameras still work. No visitors. At least not yet."_

Markus shut his eyes briefly in relief. "Good. But Lee, that's not the only threat right now. You _must_ not open the main doors until I can check the restricted section. I have to do the check myself, but I've got to get power on first. But no open doors to the Outside, until I give the okay. Do you understand?"

Lee acknowledged, seriously enough that Markus thought he might actually obey, so Markus signed off.

He refused to risk the whole world, even for his own people. He had to check Meaghan himself, since Malek could cure the infection in himself but no one else. But there was no time now. Meaghan knew enough to get into her suit -- hopefully that would keep the virus contained as well as provide her enough air until he could restore power.

And if not… He pushed his anxiety for her down and out of his way. He had work to do. If he failed here, Meaghan's death by suffocation was going to be the least of his problems.

He stood up, calculating what to do first. Erin volunteered to stay with Sam, so Markus sent the rest to go look for Jack and anyone else who'd been hurt. Then he went directly to what had once been the relays of the power distribution and traced the path of the explosion mentally.

"So?" Erin prompted, coming over to him with a wet cloth. She'd already tied one over her face.

He put it on absently, looking upward at the gaping hole. "She put it in the ceiling right about here. The tiles didn't slow it down at all. I must've stood right under it, never saw a damn thing," he said, surveying the damage. The non-existent wall between the hall and the room had been just wood and plaster, and it didn't worry him. But the opposite wall, where the various electrical conduits had come in to the monitors and switches and then back out again, routing electricity to the lower half of the base, was a tangled and burnt nest. Pure luck, or perhaps Susan's skill, had kept the explosion from turning into a massive electrical fire.

"But you can fix it, right?" she asked.

He wished he had her faith in him. Because, looking at this mess, he didn't know if he could. "I think I can patch it. Fixing it will have to wait." He pushed up his sleeves. "Minimal structural damage, maximum damage to the system to force me to open the doors. Damn, she was smart." He couldn't help a little admiration, and more pity for such a waste.

He propped the flashlight on top of the cart. Losing track of time, he concentrated on clearing the damage first: yanking conduit, snipping wires, and discarding burnt fuses. It was tedious, but lost within the rhythm, it seemed only minutes before the sound of voices broke into his concentration. He turned his head to see Teal'c lead in David and Harry, both electricians in the Mountain's maintenance crew.

"Has O'Neill been located?" Teal'c asked, kneeling beside Erin and gazing upon his fallen comrade with a worried frown.

"Not that I've heard," Markus answered, glancing at Erin for confirmation. She shook her head. "Which ways down are open?"

"The ventilation and elevator shafts are all accessible," Teal'c answered. "Only level 24 and below has sustained damage."

David, who'd been the first of Markus' students in the mountain's systems, added, "Power's on above fourteen. It went off with the surge but we got it back after a few minutes. We shut off the feeds down here."

Markus nodded, relieved that he had such quick-thinking staff. "Good job. At least we don't have to worry about any live current."

He coughed, trying to think. "Has there been a head count? Are there many missing?" He'd been so focused on his task, he had forgotten to think about any others who might have been caught by the blast.

"Lee Chen has accounted for everyone," Teal'c answered, "except the group who was in the duct system, the two men with Major Carter, and O'Neill."

Markus nodded. "I've got to finish getting the power back on or ..." he let his sentence hang, not wanting to say they might all die. "There isn't enough air to last much longer than that."

Teal'c and Daniel looked grave but nodded. They understood the situation. "We will search for the missing team."

"And Jack," Daniel added.

"Great," Markus acknowledged. "I've already sent out some others. Let me know if you find any of them." They both left, and he motioned for the two techs to come to his side. "You can help me." Eagerly they came over carrying extra wire and tools, and soon they were making progress on putting the power grid back in order.

Markus was beginning to think they would make it, when he discovered that the main line conduit had blown too, in a secondary explosion under the stairs. Worse, it was the bridge between the live electricity from the generators above, to the lower floors and the circulation system. He needed to replace at least fifteen feet of heavy-duty conduit, or nothing he did in the other room was going to make a difference, because there would be no current to send to the proper place.

He stripped Sam's small flashlight off her vest and handed it to David. "Take this. You need to find new conduit upstairs. Try the supply room next to the generators."

David looked dubious. "To carry the load to the entire system? We don't have any big enough."

"I know that!" Markus snapped and took a deep breath, raising a hand in partial apology. "Just grab whatever you can find that'll carry _something_. Hurry. Go!"

They raced out of the room, and when he went back to the relay room, his gaze fell on the odd-shaped object on the floor. It was Sam's naquadah generator. If he could hook it up here, he wouldn't need the power from the upstairs generators. But could he do it alone? He knew nothing about the alien device. _'Do you, Malek_?'

_'I know enough about naquadah power generation to fix most problems in a tel'tak or ha'tak engine. But my expertise is molecular chemistry, and I have never seen this particular device before. Together, I hope we can figure it out. First, you need to be sure it is still functional_.'

Markus glanced at Sam, still lying unconscious, then walked over to it. The generator was angular, about the size of two shoe boxes, with loose wires protruding, and a rheostat and switch attached to it. He definitely couldn't just plug it into the wall.

He reached out and righted it on the floor. Something rattled and clanked within the housing.

Loose pieces could not be a good sign.

Then, taking a deep breath, he grabbed a screwdriver and started to remove the side panel. He had to at least try to fix it.

"I can do this," he muttered under his breath, to himself and to Malek. "I studied quantum mechanics after all. How many people on this whole fucking planet can say that? Not too damn many. Plus I have you. How hard can this be?"

He pulled the panel off and put it aside. There was the naquadah, glowing an eerie green in the dim light, and a long clear crystal. Something round and white rolled out. The whole configuration was totally unlike anything he had ever seen before.

Letting out a sigh, he answered his own question. "Hard."


	40. Chapter 40

With Teal'c at his heels, Daniel led the way around the corner into the side corridor, retracing their steps.

Daniel tried to keep calm, but anxiety was pulling at him, wanting him to run. Sam was hurt badly, and he was certain that Jack was too, or he would've found them already.

They passed the north ventilation shaft, where they had come down, and circled around to the elevator. Teal'c raised his beam to trace the closed doors.

"He was here, Teal'c," Daniel said, turning to shine his own light both directions down the corridor. "He got off the elevator and then what? He'd walk the shortest route to the room where Sam was working, right?"

Teal'c headed down the corridor in that direction. "Yes."

At the corner back to the main hall, Daniel directed his light toward the far end, toward the back side of the debris pile. The beam reflected off the water seeping under the pile.

Teal'c was looking around on the floor, and suddenly stopped and knelt. He dipped a finger into a dark spot on the floor and sniffed.

Daniel watched this, and finally couldn't stand waiting for Teal'c to tell him. "Is it blood?"

"It is, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c stood and began to shine his flashlight on the walls and floors.

"Is it Jack's?" Daniel demanded, though rationally he knew better. Teal'c had many talents, but instant DNA analysis by smell was not one of them.

"That, I cannot tell," Teal'c answered.

But really, Daniel thought, who else's could it be? Jack had likely been hurt in the explosion, since he must have been nearly on top of it when it went off.

Teal'c found another larger spot on the floor and then a smear on the wall past the turn.

"Where was he going?" Daniel wondered. "If he was trying to go around, this is the wrong way."

But any answer Teal'c might have made was cut off by the sounds of frantic shouting down the corridor, then a loud crash. Teal'c and Daniel broke into a run, splashing through the water, and through an open door into a side room.

It was a nightmarish scene, dimly illuminated by two flashlights. Daniel's breath caught, seeing a body covered by someone's jacket. He closed his eyes as he told himself it wasn't Jack; it couldn't be Jack. Daniel looked up at Teal'c who sidestepped the body and inquired how he could help. It wasn't Jack. He exhaled in relief.

There was a long piece of metal ducting on the floor too, and the others, including Jeremiah and Andrew were gathered around one end. "Victor!" Andrew called inside, his voice echoing oddly. "Victor, hang on, come on, don't do this -- shit, there's so much blood, someone give me --"

Daniel rushed forward pulling out wound dressing from his vest. But then he saw what had happened and his fingers stilled. His gauze wasn't nearly enough.

Victor was mostly inside the duct, his head and shoulders hanging out, sodden with dark blood. It looked as though a ragged knife or piece of metal had slashed his neck and arms. At first he was breathing, Daniel could hear the raspy, bubbling breaths, but then those stopped with one final exhalation.

There was silence.

Andrew sat next to him, his head bowed and his hands covered in blood from where he had futilely tried to hold the cuts. "Fuck. I lost him," he whispered. He reached up as though to rub his face or his eyes, and realized he was bloody, and put his hands down again stiffly, not knowing what to do with them.

Daniel moved next to Jeremiah and asked softly, "What happened?"

Without glancing away from the body, Jeremiah answered, "We found a little blood dripping from the duct in here, and knew the team was probably nearby. So Victor volunteered to go in and look, since he was the smallest of us. He found one, Jamie," he gestured vaguely back toward the other body with the jacket over his face. "Pulled him out, and went back in. It fell apart and an edge caught him on the way down." He paused and swallowed hard. "He was a good kid. Shit, this sucks. His mom's gonna be a basketcase."

"His mom?" Daniel repeated and then realized that of course Victor had a mother here. He was -- had been -- too young to be born before the Big Death.

"Yeah," Jeremiah answered. "Maria. She's one of the teachers."

With Teal'c and Gabriel's help, Andrew gently pulled Victor's body from the metal tube, and laid him down next to Jamie.

"How's Sam doing?" Jeremiah turned away to look at Daniel.

"Not so good."

"And the power?"

"Markus and a couple guys are working on it," Daniel answered. "We're looking for Jack. Have you seen him?"

Jeremiah shook his head. "No. We didn't find anybody on this level." Then he gave himself a shake back to alertness, and pulled something out of his pocket. "But we did find this."

He handed Daniel a radio. It was dripping water, but it was certainly Jack's. Daniel took it and held tightly. He tried to click it, but nothing happened.

Andrew stood. "Someone's still gotta go in and check the others," he said.

Gabriel volunteered, and after Teal'c gave him a boost inside the opening in the upper part of the wall, Teal'c returned to Daniel. "We should continue to search for O'Neill," he declared.

"I'll go with you," Jeremiah offered. "Ain't anything we can do for these guys now. Jack might still be alive."

"One of them could be alive," Andrew objected. "Victor couldn't tell if he was just unconscious or not."

Jeremiah gave him a look that said if he wanted to continue to believe in fairy tales, that was fine, but he was moving on. "Then you guys stay here and wait for Gabriel. We'll go look for Jack."

The three returned to the corner and the blood smear. Teal'c next found a series of partial boot prints. "I believe he intended to reach the other ventilation shaft." Teal'c quickened his steps.

"Trying to get out?" Jeremiah asked, tagging along behind. "Look for help?"

"Possibly," Teal'c said. "Though it is more likely he wished to go up and over the collapse in the corridor. He is injured, perhaps with a head injury. His steps were uneven and he held the wall for balance. He was not thinking clearly."

The hatch to the shaft was standing open, and the handle was sticky with blood. This shaft did not, unlike the north one, run all the way up. Instead, it ended at level 11 and exited outside, where the facility narrowed due to the geography.

Teal'c ducked his head and waved his flashlight on the ladder on the inside of the shaft.

Then, he turned his light downward, searching to see whether there was anyone at the bottom of the shaft. Daniel held his breath in dread. God, what if Jack had fallen off the ladder? It was three floors to the bottom, and possibly fatal, especially for someone already injured.

"Anything?" Daniel prompted.

"Nothing," Teal'c confirmed, and swung himself out onto the ladder, keeping the light in one hand pointed upward as he climbed. Daniel allowed himself a little breath of relief before he followed, with Jeremiah at the end.

His leg muscles quivering, unaccustomed to all the climbing of the last few hours, Daniel grabbed Teal'c's hand, which pulled him through the hatch on level twenty-four.

There was more blood, Daniel could see that right away. The path it marked meandered to either side of the corridor, into a side hall and back. But it doggedly continued, until it ended at the collapse in the floor.

Daniel stared in horror at the smear that went right up to the ragged edge of the floor.

\---+---

Not far away, the floor beneath, Markus lifted his head, distracted by the sound of Erin coughing. But the pause reinforced what he'd been avoiding the last few minutes.

The generator wasn't working. He'd put it back together in what he thought was the correct configuration, and it didn't even turn on. Perhaps there was a hidden broken connection or he'd done it wrong, but he didn't know what else to do. He had the frustrating feeling that understanding was hovering barely out of his reach, but he couldn't quite grasp it.

His head was pounding, and his eyes were watering, making him want to rub them, though his hands were so dirty it would make things worse. '_Can't you do something?'_ he complained to Malek.

'_The headache is a result of your trying to assimilate so much of my knowledge. I did warn you. There is too much particulate matter in the air for me to stop flushing your eyes.'_

'_So that'd be a 'no', then?'_ Markus asked dryly, but with only half his attention.

He wasn't going to be able to fix the generator and he was running out of time. He had to move on to the next option.

Erin coughed again and he turned toward her. "You should go up to the garage," he advised. "Get everyone ready to evacuate."

Her eyes met his, surprised. "You mean it? You're giving up on this?" her hand made a circle, indicating the generator and the rest of the system behind him.

Her words stung, but he nodded. "There's not much choice now. I've dredged up every last bit of physics and engineering theory Malek and I know, and it's still not enough. I can't get it to work. And I can't waste any more time trying to figure it out, since I have to go check containment." He let out a sigh that turned into a cough of his own. "As long as we're clear, I'll open the doors. I'm not going to let everyone die, just to keep Valhalla Sector out."

"Of course not," Erin soothed, but she seemed to be thinking something else. "But Sam can fix it, right?"

"She's unconscious."

"We might be able to rouse her," Erin suggested. "You only need her awake a little while, right?"

That was true, but... he grimaced. "She'll be in terrible pain."

Erin's glance fell on the unconscious woman's face and then lifted back up to him. "I hate to be harsh, but better her in pain than the rest of us dead or prisoners. Besides, I think she'd agree. I know you don't have a very high opinion of the military because of Quantrell and Valhalla, but Sam flew a helicopter against Millhaven, when she didn't have to, for people she didn't even know. She'd want to help us."

'_What other choice do you have?'_ Malek asked. '_Abandon your home? Give up all that you dream?'_

He knew what else evacuation would mean: Meaghan would die. He could do it, if he had to, to save everyone else, but ...

Malek added gently, '_It would wound you deeply to leave her to die alone in her cell.'_

Markus nodded agreement with both of them. He hated the idea of inflicting more pain on Sam, but he moved to Sam's other side and lightly slapped her face. "Wake up, Sam," he said. Her head moved and her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn't rouse. "Come on, I need you to wake up. I'm sorry, but you have to wake up."

At Malek's request, he moved aside for the symbiote to take control of his voice. Malek said loudly, "Samantha! You must wake up!"

Erin flinched back at the odd voice and she looked uneasy. But Sam let out a soft moan and her eyes gradually opened, vague with pain.

"Sam? Can you hear me?" Erin asked urgently, leaning forward and taking Sam's hand.

"We need your help," Malek said, and Sam's head turned toward him, blinking with effort to focus.

"Malek," she whispered.

"Yes. I am sorry, Samantha. But we require your assistance with the naquadah generator." She looked confused and Markus nudged Malek aside.

He said, trying to be simpler, "Your help. We need your help. The generator broke and you need to fix it."

She nodded a little, understanding that much. "Help me up," she requested hoarsely and held up her free hand. He did better than that, sliding his arm under her shoulders and raising her to a sitting position. She coughed and held her chest. "Hurts," she gasped.

"I know, I'm sorry," he said. It was hard to watch her in obvious pain, but he focused on the problem. "Erin, hold her up, I'll get the generator."

Erin scooted behind Sam, holding her back against her chest, and when Sam was secure, Markus picked up the opened generator and held it in front of her. "It was caught in the explosion. I tried to fix it, but it's still not working."

She peered at it, closing and opening her eyes several times as though she was having trouble seeing it.

"Sam, please," he persisted, "if you can't fix it, we're going to have to abandon the mountain."

"Okay," she whispered, and sagged against Erin.

He hesitated, unwilling to lay a guilt trip on someone who could die, but he needed her help, so he said it anyway. "Sam, you'll be stuck here. You'll never be able to go home. And Jack will die. Please, look at it."

She coughed again, wheezing painfully, and muttered, "Trying. Jeez, blow up a sun and nobody'll leave you alone."

'_Blow up a sun?'_ Malek repeated in shock, but Markus refused to distract her by asking about it.

She pulled it closer to frown into it, and put one shaking hand inside. Markus held it still for her. His gaze met Erin's and they waited.

\---+---

"Daniel Jackson, the floor is unstable." Teal'c seized Daniel's shoulder to prevent him from approaching the hole too closely. Teal'c could hear the creaking of the supports beneath their feet, and the more muffled sounds of voices from beneath them.

"But Teal'c -- " Daniel started to complain, but then stopped as he heard a voice as well.

A Goa'uld voice, Teal'c realized, tensing reflexively before he identified it as Malek, calling Sam to wake up.

Beside him, Jeremiah also stiffened. "Did you hear that?" he whispered after the voice had faded to a murmur to Teal'c's hearing. "Seth. He's here."

Daniel's head turned to Teal'c, his blue eyes showing panic at what to say. "No, no, Jeremiah, Seth's not here," he said hastily, his words nearly tripping over each other.

"I heard it," Jeremiah insisted. "That same weird, alien voice. Didn't you hear it?"

Teal'c answered calmly, "I heard a voice, but it was not Seth. You need not fear. There is no danger." He turned away from the hole in the floor, deciding it would be best to distract Jeremiah and continue the search for O'Neill. "Come. O'Neill did not fall through the hole. His trail turns this way."

Teal'c followed the blood splatter to the next converted office. He pulled open the door. It was not as dark in the room as it should have been.

The small space was dimly lit with a flickering light, coming from down on the floor. Teal'c stepped inside and turned the beam of his flashlight to the source of the odd illumination, already knowing what he would see.l

O'Neill lay on the floor, his features and form distorted by entropic cascade failure.

"Jack!" Daniel rushed past him to kneel at O'Neill's side, but then he stopped, at a loss for what to do.

"Is there anything we can do to help him?" Jeremiah asked, watching Jack in concern.

Teal'c joined Daniel. "We can dress his wounds. The entropic cascade failure will end on its own."

He stated the words with confidence. But he was inwardly not so certain that it would in fact end on its own. If it did not end soon, then his brother warrior's body would fail, unable to handle the trauma of the attack.

Teal'c set about tending what he could. The remainder was in the hands of others.

\---+---

God, she couldn't think. Breathing hurt, even her heart beating hurt. She wanted to slide back to sleep, where she wouldn't feel anything.

But she had to focus, had to fix the generator. Or the colonel would die. She would die. Everyone would die.

She peered into the generator's innards. It looked okay. She couldn't see anything wrong. It should work.

Taking out the regulator crystal, she looked behind it. It looked fine, too, it looked like -- no, there it was. That was wrong. Right there.

She reached in again, but her hand was trembling too hard to change the pair of leads. She managed to rip them both off, but couldn't put them back the way they should go.

Leaning back against someone -- was it Erin? -- Sam raised her chin to look up. "Malek, so close. You need to -- " She coughed, the smoke and dust thick in her throat, choking her.

She couldn't breathe, even after she stopped coughing. She was going to pass out, but she first needed to tell him how to fix it. She tried to whisper, that he needed to switch the two, but she couldn't tell if the words came out before the dark closed in again...


	41. Chapter 41

"_Malek_."

Markus suppressed the instinctive urge to deny the name. She had called him that once before and he remembered feeling confusion and the absolute certainty that he was Markus Alexander and no one else. But now it wasn't true.

'_It will take time_,' Malek told him with compassion. '_You cannot expect to be at ease so early in our relationship. I am not offended by your frequent disorientation_._ But what did Sam mean, saying 'switch'? What switch?_ _There are no switches except the one to activate the machine. Is it not attached properly_?'

Markus shook off the odd feeling and looked inside the generator. Since he hadn't touched the on-switch, he thought her comment must refer to something else. He had the crystal in his hand, where he'd rescued it from hers, and wondered if he'd put it in upside-down. But no, she had done something else inside. He looked more closely. There were two c-clips hanging loose, which he'd attached before. He looked at them, retraced his thinking for why he'd put them the way that he had before, and did the opposite, tightening the screws to keep them in place. The puzzle piece fell into place and the answer was perfectly clear, now that Sam had opened up his thinking.

'_Are you sure?' _Malek asked. '_That is a less-stable configuration.'_

"I'm sure," he answered aloud and replaced the crystal in its copper cradle. "The crystal modifies the flow. But it has to be unstable to begin with."

'_This is hugely dangerous. If this is wrong, it will destroy all of the mountain.'_

Markus could feel Malek's anxiety, but he felt none of his own. In fact, he was almost giddy as he replaced the cover. '_So, no pressure then.'_

Erin finished tending to Sam and asked, "So you fixed it?"

"Sam fixed it," he corrected. "I followed her directions."

She waved that away. "And you know how to hook it up?"

That much he knew without worrying about it. The outputs were obvious. He raised his brows at her, teasing, "Getting cold feet? This was your idea."

"Don't remind me. Although I guess if we all blow up, I won't know about it."

"It'll be okay, Erin. I get it now. It's rather elegant, in a chaotic sort of way." He climbed to his feet, generator in his hands. His vision abruptly grayed out and he felt light headed, taking a hasty step to find his balance.

'_I am_ s_orry,' _Malek said_. 'The atmosphere is stagnating. I will compensate as much as possible. But do not delay.'_

He felt fine a moment later and hurried to the wall. David returned with the conduit he no longer needed, and the three of them set to work.

Ten minutes later when he stepped back to look it over, he was grimly satisfied. It definitely was not the most attractive thing he'd ever made, with a tangled mass of cables and wires sprouting out of the generator and laying like sleeping snakes across the floor, but he thought it would work.

"Erin, I need you to come over here," he beckoned her to the generator. He switched it on, and it began to make a high-pitched hum that sounded very loud in the quiet of the room. It didn't blow up. He flashed a very smug feeling at Malek. He pointed to the rheostat on the front. "When I tell you, turn this very slowly and stop here. You two," he gathered up the two techs, and pointed them to the system breakers, "open those one by one."

For his part, he attached the alligator clips for the voltmeter to see exactly what the generator was putting out and gave the others the okay to start.

They started out slow, but the first test was successful, and very soon Erin turned the dial again. The generator's hum increased in pitch and he told Harry to open the first breaker to the lights.

There was a brief nerve-wracking pause and then a few lights in the hall flickered on and stayed on. The return of brighter light made him blink.

Erin let out a hoarse cheer. "We did it!"

But Markus was reserving his relief. "Hold that thought until we've got the fans on. Move the dial another quarter turn, that should be enough. And open that one." He gave David a nod for his breaker.

He watched the voltmeter anxiously as the little needle continued to rise and rise, imagining the electricity rushing through the wires and walls and across to the circulation control system.

Nothing happened for a very long time, and his imaginings turned dark: of hidden shorts and surges that were halting the flow. Sparks and nascent fires were going to build and consume everything.

'_Patience,'_ Malek counseled, but was a little amused by Markus' pessimism. '_I know the human saying of preparing for the worst, but it will not hurt to have a little hope.'_

They all heard it then -- the distant grinding noise of the fans starting up. The noise sputtered and groaned and stopped, and Markus found himself crossing his fingers. It started up again, the groan settling into the more usual whir and vibration through the floor.

He didn't need to look at any readouts or even feel the air whispering against his face to know that the system was working -- he heard it. He felt it in his bones. He might not be able to understand the noises of the Outside, but Inside, he was master of the sounds of his little universe.

His relief was strong enough he just smiled when Malek sent him a pointed, '_I told you so.'_

That feeling lasted exactly as long as it took to turn around and see Sam lying still and gray on the floor.

\---+---

The glow of Jack's entropic cascade failure attack faded, just as the lights came on, leaving Daniel confused and blinking in the sudden glare.

Under the harsh light, Jack looked awful, almost as bad as he'd looked after Antarctica and he'd been dying then. He was breathing, but in short, shallow pants, and his skin looked waxy. Teal'c lifted his gaze away to meet Daniel's, and his face was as openly worried as Daniel had ever seen. "We must return O'Neill to our reality."

Daniel swallowed hard and nodded. "It looks like Markus got the lights back on, and hopefully the air too, so then it shouldn't be too hard to get Sam's generator up and attached and get the gate working."

But he knew as well as Teal'c that his encouraging statement was filled with the unspoken assumption that Sam was going to be okay, at least okay enough to get everything to work and go home, and that was not certain. Then there was that whole tricky issue of _**finding**_ the way home...

Jeremiah asked, his own face looking concerned, "Shouldn't we take him up to the infirmary? He really doesn't look too good."

"There is nothing that they can do for him," Teal'c said. "He requires rest and a return to our home reality."

"He should wake up soon," Daniel said to Jeremiah, with more effort at reassuring him. "It's just that every time an attack hits, he gets weaker. And the attacks seem to be getting more frequent."

"Nor is the alternate O'Neill's proximity a factor any longer," Teal'c added. "We know that he is within Valhalla Sector today."

Jeremiah grunted, and looked down at Jack again. "This is so fucking bizarre," Jeremiah muttered, but to himself, so Daniel didn't answer. He agreed, though it'd been a long time since the sheer_** weirdness**_ of the universe bothered him.

Daniel clicked his radio on. "Markus, it's Daniel. Wanted to let you know we found Jack."

The answer came back, "_How is he_?"

"Unconscious. He's got some cuts, that we've patched up, but the bad part is he finished up another bout of entropic cascade failure," Daniel reported. "How's Sam?"

"_Not very good," _Markus answered. "_She was awake for a little while, to help me with the generator, but she's passed out again_." There was a thoughtful silence on the other end, until Markus continued, "_I'm going to take Sam up to the infirmary in the elevator, you should go up with us_."

After agreeing, Daniel signed off. Teal'c held Jack under the arms, hands locked across his chest, while Daniel picked up his feet. Jeremiah went ahead to make sure the path was clear and to call the elevator.

It felt odd and surreal to be standing in that well-lit but deserted corridor, carrying Jack and waiting for the elevator. Daniel heard the elevator pass on its way down, and the doors clang as they opened on twenty-five downstairs.

Jack stirred then, stretching and twisting in their grip, groaning. Teal'c quickly set him down on the floor.

Daniel knelt down beside him and was finally rewarded when an eye opened. "Daniel?" he croaked. "What the -- ?" He tried to move then clutched his head with another moan. "Why do I feel like Ba'al's used me as a punching bag again?"

"Nothing so grandiose," Daniel quipped back, relieved that Jack was at least awake enough to joke. "Where do you hurt?"

"Where_** don't**_ I hurt? God, I feel like crap." He curled up for a moment in a ball of misery, and then straightened again, his gaze noting Teal'c and Jeremiah. "What the hell happened?"

"I think it was more entropic cascade fa -- "

Jack's eyes widened as the memories flooded back and he bolted upright. "The bomb! What happened? It went off, and all this stuff fell on me, and--"

Daniel put a hand on his shoulder. "It's over. It knocked out power but Markus and Sam got the naquadah generator going so the air system is back up and running."

"Carter -- I was trying to get to her. Is she okay?" Jack rubbed at his forehead again, squinting. He must have a whale of a headache.

"I don't know," Daniel answered, and was glad Jack was too distracted to call him on the lie. "We're meeting her and Markus to go up to the infirmary. Is anything broken?"

"Don't think so. I just ache all over, like I caught that Ancient flu again. And my head is killing me."

"I think you have a concussion," Daniel said.

"Ya think?" Jack responded with weary sarcasm and lightly touched a place on his head that made him wince.

"Not many people could take having a bomb blow up in their face," Jeremiah said. "Not bad for an old guy."

Jack glared up at him, "I'd show you 'old guy', kid, if I could trust my brain not to fall out of my skull. Here, be useful, and help the old man up," he held up a hand and Jeremiah hauled him up to his feet.

The elevator arrived and the doors opened. Erin and Markus were there, and Markus was carrying Sam awkwardly, with her legs forced straight instead of bent over his arm. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and she looked asleep. Markus' expression flared with surprise when he saw that Jeremiah was there, too. Daniel noticed after they'd all gotten in, manuevering around Sam's legs, that Markus seemed to look more strained and his back was against the wall, as though carrying Sam were an effort.

"Carter?" Jack didn't notice any of it, looking at Sam. "What's wrong with her? Aside from the leg, I can see that part."

"She lost some blood," Markus answered, "and her ribs were strained by all the weight that fell on her. But she'll live, don't worry."

Jack didn't look all that reassured by that, but sagged against the back wall and shut his eyes.

The elevator continued upward, toward the infirmary, on 21, which was as deserted and quiet as anywhere else in the lower levels.

Markus took Sam directly to one of the patient beds and very calmly and ably, injected her with something he took from a cabinet, and rebandaged her leg. Daniel watched, wondering how much was Malek and how much was Markus.

His hand moved toward the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff, but then withdrew and he turned. "I'm going upstairs to find Tess to have a look at Sam. She'll probably want an x-ray of the leg and see what she can do."

"Beyond your skill?" Jack asked, from the bed he was sitting on, and his dark eyes fixed on Markus, as if peeling him away to the symbiote beneath.

Markus nodded, answering carefully, "With the proper technology, we could do more, of course. But this sort of surgery isn't exactly in our capabilities. But there's always hope." He reached up and fingered his Tok'ra pendant with seeming idleness, but Daniel took the point -- the other Tok'ra could come at any time. Markus continued, "She should sleep for several hours -- I'll be back later and see if I can help."

Gathering up Erin with a wave, he left, Jeremiah following after some hasty farewells.

That left the team alone, together, for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Jack leaned back and put his hands under his head, quipping, "So SG-1 ends up in the infirmary, again. Even if it is an alternate reality. I think this means Dixon wins the pool, damn it."

Despite everything, Daniel had to laugh.

\---+---

In the elevator, Markus hesitated before stabbing the button for nineteen.

"I thought we were going up top?" Jeremiah asked, frowning in puzzlement.

"I have to check something first," he answered briefly, feeling uncomfortable. "Won't take more than a minute."

Jeremiah shrugged and dropped it, but Markus felt unaccountably guilty and had to look away.

_'You should tell him, about Meaghan,'_ Malek advised.

_'Not right now. There's no time. God, there's never time for anything,_' Markus complained. '_I wouldn't even do this right now, except I think it'll make things quicker later. I'm sure she's fine. She has to be fine.'_

When the doors opened, he told the others, "You can go up --"

Erin interrupted sternly, "I'm not going up there without you. So hurry up. Jeremiah will keep me company." She put a hand on Jeremiah's shoulder to keep him with her, and not coincidentally, keep Jeremiah from following.

He gave her a grateful look, wondering how he'd managed to keep Meaghan a secret all these years without so much help. Then he laughed to himself as he went through the blast door. He'd never been this reckless about going to visit Meaghan either, so he hadn't needed the help.

_'But think, soon you will not have to sneak in to visit her anymore,'_ Malek reminded him.

He answered just in emotion -- pleased and grateful for the opportunity -- and ran his hands through his hair, hoping he didn't look too horrible, before he went in to Meaghan's room.

The regular lights were on, he saw at once, and the red alert light was not, thankfully. That was a good indicator that containment was still secure. He was subtly aware of Malek, testing the air they were breathing for contamination. He would tell Markus if there was something to fear, but so far, so good.

Meaghan was there, in her regular clothes, but her biohazard suit with its independent oxygen was lying across the bed.

She rushed to the window and the anxious questions tumbled from her, "What was that? What happened? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He explained about the explosion and restoring power, and then finished, saying, "I'm on my way upstairs. But I had to make sure everything was okay here."

"I only took off the suit after the air pressure read normal," she reassured him and gave him a quirked smile. "I know what to do, you know."

"I know, I just had to be sure ..."

Her expression softened. "You shouldn't take risks like this. Someone's going to get curious about where you're going. I'm fine. And I'm patient. You've got enough to worry about -- don't worry about me."

He gave her a partial smile, not quite agreeing that he could do as she wanted, and then straightened up, reluctant but determined. "I should go. Erin and Jeremiah are waiting."

She agreed and blew him a kiss, then shooed him out when he didn't move.

He went back to the elevator and told Erin briefly, "Everything checks out."

She let out a breath of relief. "Well, that's one load off my mind."

"So what was it?" Jeremiah asked. "Something with the power system?"

"Sort of," he answered, trying not to lie, but answer casually. "I wanted to check one of the weak points in the circulation system, since some of the monitoring equipment is still off-line. But we're fine." He leaned back against the elevator wall and shut his eyes, indulging for the moment. "We're more fine that we should be. If not for Sam's generator, we'd be evacuating right now. We owe her a lot."

By which he meant that _he_ owed her. There were some secrets he might not be able to keep if they got in the way of getting her healed and back home.

On the first floor, Markus heard the crowd from down the hall, and paused before going in. It sounded like _everyone_was in there. He straightened his shirt and tugged at his cuffs, wishing violently he could be somewhere else. This was worse than St. Louis.

Jeremiah watched, rolled his eyes, and shoved him through the door. "I'm pretty sure only Theo bites. Get your ass in there."

It was as bad as Markus expected. As soon everyone recognized him they began bombarding him with questions: when would the doors open, were they all going to die, when could they go downstairs... He answered as best he could, trying to be patient even as the same questions came at him again and again, until he gave up.

He raised his voice, "If I could have everyone's attention!" No one fell quiet at all, until Theo appeared in the crowd, put her fingers in her mouth, and blew an ear-splitting whistle.

"Markus is gonna talk," she shouted in the sudden quiet, "So you all oughta shut up and listen."

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, he gave her a nod of thanks, and announced loudly, "Power's been restored to the lower levels, and the circulation system is back up and running. We will allow people below gradually. However, level 23 and below suffered some structural damage and are off-limits until we can make sure of what's safe. Also, because Valhalla Sector may still have troops nearby, the main doors will remain locked for now. I know this has been a difficult time for everyone, but the worst is over, and now we're going to have to clean up. Thank you all for your patience."

That seemed to settle most of the grumbling and questions, and gave him a little space. Kurdy dragged Jeremiah off after a nod at Markus, who was just as glad to get down to business and put the mountain in some kind of normal order.

He gathered Lee, Raymond, and Kate nearby. "Raymond, take a group down and find Andrew. He was supposed to be looking for the missing, and I haven't heard from him. See if he needs help. Kate, you and Erin can slowly start letting people go back down. Oh, before I forget, somebody make sure Tess went down to the infirmary." She didn't seem to be around, and wasn't with the other Council members, so he hoped she'd already gone below.

Then he turned to Lee, who was patiently waiting beside him. "And you and I are going to figure out where West's hiding."

With everyone occupied, he could now see if there was another disaster waiting for them outside.


	42. Chapter 42

First light was only a smudge in the east, when Colonel West left his quarters, coffee cup in hand, to meet with his commanders.

"Unit one is ready for action, sir," Major Graham said. "We have three trucks loaded with supplies, food rations, tents, and extra ammo. My contingent of a hundred fifty is ready to go."

West nodded and turned to the next man who reported, "Colonel, I have six Hueys, fueled and armed, with the assault teams ready to be dropped at Thunder Mountain."

West nodded. His satisfaction lasted only until he looked at the third man. Davis was shuffling his feet looking decidedly uncomfortable. "What is it, Davis?"

"There's a group of armed civilians congregated by the west gate," he answered. "They may be the same kids we ran into trying to get in here. There seem to be more of them now."

West hated the unpredictability of this modern world. Why couldn't things go as planned, just once? Now he had to deal with these costumed outsiders, who were between him and his objective. He allowed himself a grunt of disgust and asked, "How many?"

"Best estimate, twenty or so. I have men checking out the southern gate, but it seems the eastern gate is also attracting a crowd."

"Damn!" West grumbled. He turned to the fourth man, his 2IC. "Hollis, what about your unit?"

"We have two working, fueled tanks, but little ammo for the guns, sir. Two hundred foot."

West did not like this delay. His army, while long on experience and discipline, was sadly lacking in numbers. He didn't want to waste one of his men on this rabble, but worse, this skirmish was likely to cost him valuable time. Everything depended on a one-two strike on Cheyenne. "Hollis, your unit take the lead, and we'll force our way out. Shoot to kill anyone who stands in our way."

Hollis nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I'm giving the order to move out. Tanks out the west gate first, and see if that doesn't break up the party. Have your men following, prepared to fire upon anyone who doesn't give way. Davis, you flank and follow. Graham at the back once the way is open. As soon as the rats leave, I want the choppers in the air. Understood?"

His four commanders saluted, pivoted on their feet, and went to carry out his orders. West had his own armored vehicle, although he'd rather be up in the choppers. For now, his sergeant drove him to the CAC building so he could watch Hollis' progress.

The building had a tower so he would be able to view the skirmish and gauge when it would be safe to move the supply trucks. The room at the top was small, but had a three hundred-sixty degree window in order to watch everything unfold.

He pulled his binoculars to his face and watched as the big tanks rolled up to the gate, which automatically opened for them. The small crowd parted and let them go by. But when Davis' soldiers were sighted, the ruffians began to fire handguns at them. His men returned fire, but it seemed that the enemy never got hit. Was it possible that his army issue guns had been tampered with and only shot blanks? He couldn't understand what was happening.

The guns mounted on the rovers fired and the enemy started to fall. Suddenly a wave of people seemed to rise from the ground. The high weeds had camouflaged them from view. What had once been twenty or so bodies became ten times that number. They all carried large, long spear-like weapons. The end of one opened and fired blasts at his men, sending them flying out of the rovers, and dropping the ones on foot. How was this possible? He had never seen weapons like the ones these insurgents carried. Who made them? What country or power did they represent?

Up the road, West spotted a pick-up truck as it slowly lumbered forward toward the tanks. West could make out one driver and a gun mounted, but no one was manning the gun. A funny feeling came over West. A single pick-up creeping along just didn't fit, something was wrong. West grabbed his radio to call a warning to the men in the tank. "Watch out for the enemy truck," he shouted, praying they would hear him. One of the tank's guns swiveled and fired upon the truck.

The truck exploded, shattering the road, the two tanks, and everything in a fifty-foot radius. A large crater was left in the road, making it impassible. He stared, aghast. What the hell had that truck been packed with? Not a common explosive. He'd able to see in the back and it had been empty.

More of the enemy army seemed to rise from the ground and take the place of their fallen brethren. How many more were hiding in the grass? Had they crawled on their bellies all the way from wherever the hell they'd come from?

Leavenworth and environs were supposed to be empty, with nothing but cowed and scattered kids. How had Simmons screwed up this badly? He wished Simmons was here, alive, so West could kill him personally.

West grabbed his radio again and shouted instructions to have his choppers take the air and blow the insurgents away. All his men had now entered the fray. Every one of his hand-picked, personally-groomed soldiers were now engaged in battle with an enemy they knew nothing about.

There was a noise outside the room, barely audible over the sounds of the helicopters and weapons fire. His personal guard was stationed at the door, and several more at his vehicle. He called out, "Problems?"

There was no answer. West started to go to the door when he saw two choppers explode. His hands shook both in fury and impotence and he dropped the radio. The doorknob rattled. Was Eddie coming in?

Another helicopter exploded into flaming debris. He bent down to pick up the radio and order a retreat, when the door opened and two women with long hair entered. They looked just as Davis had described, with the dresses, eyeliner, and jewelry around their foreheads and necks.

"Your God commands your obedience," said the taller one in the black dress. The other was wearing red, but they looked alike. Both of them walked in like they owned the place.

"Who the hell are you?" he barked. "And where's Eddie?"

"Eddie is irrelevant. My Lord Seth is all you need to think about. All he asks for is your love and your loyalty. I am the Priestess Heidi, one of the most beloved of Seth. This is my acolyte Sherry."

"I don't give a flying fuck who you are. I want you off my base. As soon as my men--" he stopped mid-sentence by the appearance of a gun in her hand, raised to point unerringly at him.

"You will come with us. My lord Seth wishes to speak to you."

He was about to refuse when she fired one round which passed so close to his ear he felt the heat. The bullet punched through the glass window at his back.

"It is your only chance to live. If you refuse my lord, we are commanded to kill you."

She had a matter-of-fact voice, and there was no doubt she meant every word. He glanced out the window one more time to see the flames leap from the latest chopper casualty. This new enemy was proving to be more troublesome than Markus Alexander.

With the gun aimed at the back of his head, he followed Sherry down the stairs. Outside they made him walk deeper inside the base, past the Army's command center, and surprisingly made him enter the chapel. Seated on a wooden chair where the altar should have been, with two armed men flanking him, was a man wearing long black robes with a cowl over his head. As West came closer, the man pushed the cowl back.

At first, the man seemed to be normal. He looked youthful, but still too old to have been a child at the Big Death. One of those few who was naturally immune perhaps, who had gathered a cult around himself based on his survival and good looks. His hair was short and dark, and he was clean-shaven, with none of the scruffiness that was so common among the kids today. His eyes were almost black and he had a penetrating gaze, making West feel suddenly exposed.

But then something happened. The whites of his eyes flashed with yellow light and the glow stayed for just long enough so West knew it wasn't imagination. Cold chills ran down his spine, even while he tried to tell himself it was just a trick.

"You will kneel before your god!" the man commanded in a strange voice.

"I won't kneel for anyone," West snapped with reflexive pride, but tendrils of real fear were curling up inside his chest.

"Kneel before your god! I will give no other chance."

When West did not move, someone off to the side came up behind him with a long staff and slammed it into the back of his knees. He fell forward, with a cry. Using his arms, he braced himself as he looked up.

"I am Lord Seth, god of this world. I have showed my strength by defeating your paltry army. This training exercise has proved beneficial--"

"Training exercise?" West interrupted, affronted.

Seth sneered. "You did not possess men enough for a full battle, so I only brought those who needed the experience. It has taught them well. They will be ready when I recover what is mine. How many other such forts are there on this planet?"

West had to stop and think. The man was delusional. He really thought he was a god and planned to take over the world? Ridiculous.

But, lunatic or not, he had definitely beaten West's army. West considered sending this self-proclaimed god against the rebels in Valhalla Sector but there was still a chance that duty and honor might prevail there. So he should turn him against the object of the original mission instead.

He answered, modifying his tone to something more respectful, "In the world, I have no idea. But in the United States, there's only one of consequence: Thunder Mountain, the Cheyenne complex in Colorado. That's the most powerful base left."

Seth narrowed his gaze and nodded slightly. "I have heard of this place." He turned to one of the women. "We have no need for such an old man. Heidi, my love, make him disappear."

West's eyes widened in confusion and terror as she came forward carrying a strange metallic gun, coiled in an "S" like shape. She did something to it and it unfolded, rising like a cobra about to strike, then aimed it at his chest.

"But, I answered. I helped you," West stammered, glancing wildly from one to the other. He tried to get up or back away, but there were hands holding him down. "You can't --"

Seth ignored him, as though he wasn't even there. "Now."

"Three times?" she asked, looking at Seth with adoration.

"Yes, three times," Seth instructed.

She fired.

\---+---

Jolinar sat back and let Martouf pilot the tel'tak. In truth she was exhausted from arguing with Garshaw. Their leader had been ready to fly to Thunder Mountain and forcibly extract the errant Tok'ra herself.

"It has been fifteen years since he has been able to leave that prison he called Valhalla Sector. You would think he'd be _**eager**_ to get off Earth," Garshaw had grumbled.

"If Chuan had still been his host, maybe he would have willingly left. But with Markus Alexander, he feels it is his duty to remain and make sure the planet can rebuild and fortify themselves against both the imminent danger of Seth and the possible return of Ra. His heart is with the Tau'ri." Then she had added, hoping this would end the argument, "He is in a perfect position to keep the chappa'ai secure."

Garshaw had stalked away, irritated but resigned. However, others had not been so willing to cater to Malek's personal wishes, until Jolinar and Lantash had brought out their news about Egeria's possible existence.

"Are you still thinking about the council meeting?" Martouf asked, interrupting her reverie. "I did not mean to cause Delek to abruptly leave the meeting."

"You were right. I wish we could go, as well, to find her. But we must return to Earth and help Malek." Jolinar added more quietly, "I fear he intends to stay on Earth until Markus Alexander dies. Even then he will probably find another Tau'ri to blend with. His fate has now become so entwined with Earth, he may never leave."

Martouf clasped her hand. "Then we too will spend some of our time on Earth. Malek cannot be expected to carry this alone. The majority will not support his decision and it may be only us that keeps in contact."

Jolinar realized they had left behind the hills around their Earth base and the land beneath them had flattened out, into the vast central plain of the continent. When they had first returned to Earth, they had gone immediately to the tunnels near Valhalla Sector. They had retrieved their supplies, given Chuan a burial of sorts, and then collapsed all of the tunnels. Now they were approaching Seth's compound, to gather some preliminary intelligence.

Jolinar eagerly looked at the sensors as Martouf slowed the tel'tak, coming up on the large river that bisected the plains. Then she stiffened, surprised by what she was seeing.

"I am reading the aftermath of a naquadah explosion very near to Seth's compound." She turned to Martouf, "Do you suppose he has been at war with anyone? Could another Goa'uld have landed on Earth while we were away?"

They flew in silence over a large facility, completely encircled with high fencing, boasting many individual buildings, fields, a landing strip for aircraft, and what looked to be a large detention center. One of the gates was open and just in front was a mammoth crater, with engine parts still smoldering and human remains littering the ground around it.

"I want to land and look around," Jolinar spoke, but her tone was that of Rosha, a husky whisper.

Martouf nodded and while still cloaked, he landed beside one of the buildings, no doubt hoping to use it as a blind in case anyone was watching. They got out, and immediately saw the wreckage of three helicopters that had crashed. Several trucks were on their side, emptied of contents, and the humans inside dead.

"Staff blasts," Martouf acknowledged, turning one over so he could see the wound.

Jolinar wandered over to the gate and the crater in the road. At the bottom was a mass of metal, too destroyed to determine its original form. "This hole was caused by a naquadah bomb," she called to Martouf who was wandering among corpses.

"Some of these people were killed by Earth weapons yet others by staffs and zat'nik'tels. All appear to be human, no Jaffa."

Jolinar returned to his side. "This was Seth, I feel certain. We need to report this to Malek."

She glanced at the large sign in front of the gate. Leavenworth. Malek would want to send his own scouts, ones who would better understand who had been fighting here.

The two Tok'ra returned to the tel'tak subdued and worried.

\---+---

Markus finally took a moment to sit down out of the way and rest. Clean-up was ongoing and it looked like everyone would be able to move back downstairs to their quarters by nightfall, with only the immediate area around the explosion unusable. Sarah brought him a sandwich and a glass of water. "Thanks," he called after her belatedly and she smiled at him over her shoulder. But even her smile wasn't enough to chase away the realization of what had happened today.

So much destruction. Five people dead, and two badly injured, including Sam. Four people who shouldn't even be here, all got caught up in_his_ war and suffered the consequences.

Malek interjected, '_It is not your doing.'_

'_Isn't it?'_ he asked, bleakly. '_I'm the one who decided to take the mountain outside. I'm the one who decided to challenge Valhalla Sector, even though I knew they were better armed, more experienced, and more ruthless. I couldn't even find a stupid, fucking __**bomb**.'_

'_Blame solves nothing_. _Sam is stable and as soon as Jolinar and Lantash return we will be able to fix her leg_._Jack suffers most from the consequences of his counterpart being alive. Daniel and the Jaffa are unhurt_._But this is not about them, not really.'_

Right there was the chief drawback of having someone else sharing his own brain -- he couldn't even pretend in his own thoughts. It was all about the five people, including young Victor, who had died. Erin had looked terribly struck by the news, and had shaken off his hand and stalked away. He hadn't seen her since.

Malek's Tok'ra communication necklace activated.

'_It is likely Jolinar and Lantash have returned,' _Malek said. '_We must go to a private place to answer.'_

Markus ducked into the nearest restroom, locked the door, and gave over control of his body. It still felt strange to feel his fingers activating the device and holding it up without his conscious control, and stranger to hear himself speak. "Malek."

"Martouf," came the answer through the device. "We have arrived, inspected Seth's location, and are going to land not far from the entrance to your base."

"When you come, bring a healing device with you."

Martouf's voice was disturbed. "Are you injured?"

"Not I. However an explosive device detonated within the mountain. Samantha Carter was badly injured in the blast. Do you know if there are Tau'ri soldiers hidden from us outside?"

"There is no one. It is safe to open the door."

"Good," Malek answered. "My host reminds me that a group of their friends, including Elizabeth, are on the way up. We will wait and let you all in together."

"Understood. We have much to tell you--"

"What news from the council?" Malek asked eagerly.

"They were reluctant to give you permission to stay, of course. However, Aldwin and Freya will go to Pangar to attempt to locate Egeria. Assuming they find her, I believe that Garshaw and Selmak will support your desire to stay. However, that was not our important news," Martouf said. "We headed toward Seth's compound and encountered the site of a battle early this morning in a place named Leavenworth. Seth and his troops fought with staff weapons, Earth weapons, and at least one explosive device laced with naquadah. They utterly destroyed a large contingent of Earth's soldiers. Jolinar and I believe they were Valhalla Sector soldiers. We found a unit patch for the Eighth Army."

"Colonel West," Malek said, and his emotions were as stunned as Markus felt. West had gone to regroup in Leavenworth and Seth had defeated him. All this time he had feared West had men poised outside the mountain, when they weren't even close. But Malek was thinking of something else and asked, "Did you see where Seth's army went?"

Martouf answered, "They appear to have returned to their compound. Jolinar suggests that Seth was threatened by the Tau'ri army so close to him, but Lantash believes he may have used it as a test."

Malek nodded. "Probably both. I am uneasy that he was so successful. Where did he find staff weapons?"

"Perhaps he made them," Martouf suggested. "We saw only the burns left on several bodies, not the weapons themselves. But we agree that the site should be inspected more closely by those more familiar with Tau'ri warfare."

"Yes, we will send someone from Valhalla Sector," Malek agreed. "Wait with the others outside, until we can open the doors without suspicion."

Martouf confirmed and disconnected. Malek put the communications device away and then returned Markus to control, pondering the news.

"It's good news," Markus said aloud, his words echoing in the small chamber. "West isn't a threat anymore."

'_Seth is.'_

Markus left the restroom, taking his end of the conversation to inner voice. '_But Seth was already a threat. I would much rather fight one enemy than two. And after all that's happened, I'm just as glad that Valhalla Sector is the one who lost, no matter how dangerous Seth is._'

'_The Tok'ra will help eliminate him and his threat,' _Malek declared.

'_I'm not going to go after him until we're ready. We have too many things to do here. But yes, someday soon, perhaps this summer, we're going to draw him out and crush him.'_

He had no choice but take on Seth, he knew that. Regardless of any other concerns, reunification couldn't happen with Seth lurking in the middle of the country like a trap-door spider, ready to attack anyone who got too close. But Markus wasn't going to be pushed into it either, no matter how eager Malek and the other Tok'ra were.

Seth's victory had bought them time, and he intended to take advantage of it.

\---+---

Jack left the infirmary when Tess had pronounced him too fit to be there. He'd raised his brows, surprised that he was actually getting kicked out. Fraiser liked to keep him there as long as possible.

Tess shook her head at him. "You need rest, but you know that. Nothing more I can do for you. I'll keep a close eye on Sam, I promise."

After neatly knocking down both of his reasons for staying there, she smiled at him and pointed at the door. Markus wasn't the only quietly ruthless person in this place, that was for sure.

Daniel and Teal'c hovered discreetly nearby, but he didn't need help down the hall. He felt sore and his head ached, but his legs worked fine. It was a good thing the elevator was working though. He decided to go up top and see what was going on.

He found the parking garage was nearly empty, with about only a hundred people gathered at the far end, near the inner gate. None of the children were present at all, which made sense when they got farther in and he could see what was happening. The mountain was going to open the outer doors.

Markus, Kurdy, Jeremiah and Erin were waiting, with Lee, Carl Warren, and two others standing beside the door, armed with M-16's and grenade launchers. The sight made him twitch towards where he'd normally keep his M9. Teal'c had a hand on his zat beneath his jacket\\.

Markus turned his head when Jack came up. "Good to see you up and around."

"Your benevolent dictator down in the infirmary kicked me out," he made an exaggerated offended face, winning a little smile.

"Funny, I had to sneak out when I got shot. She must like you." But the smile disappeared as a loud mechanical groan filled the air, and one half of the great doors began to open.

Elizabeth was the first one inside. She smiled at Kurdy and called his name, but her whole face lit up when she saw Markus. She ran to him, throwing her arms around him in a hug. "When they took you away -- I was so scared -- thank God you're all right."

He hugged her back tightly. "And I'm glad you're okay."

She pulled back a little to frown at him and looked pointedly at Lee and the others holding guns. "So what happened? What's with the guns?"

For answer he kissed her forehead and then gave her a gentle push toward Kurdy. "It's over. Kurdy can fill you in. We'll talk later."

Jack's gaze went back to the doors, which were now closing again. The last two through were Martouf and Jolinar. While he'd always thought Martouf was okay for a Tok'ra, Jolinar reminded him of all the things he didn't like about them -- she'd taken over Carter without permission, and threatened to blow up the gateroom. She was definitely attractive, but looking at her was a little creepy.

SG-1 and the Tok'ra gathered near the door. "Seth defeated Colonel West in battle," Rosha announced quietly. Or maybe it was Jolinar speaking in a human voice, Jack was never sure who was _**really**_ talking.

"When you say 'defeated' -- ?" Jack asked.

"We mean 'destroyed utterly'," Martouf clarified. "He may have taken prisoners, but we found no one alive at the site."

Jack and Teal'c exchanged a troubled look. "I'd say it couldn't happen to a nicer guy," Jack said, "but if Seth really has the capability to crush a battalion, that's not good."

"He has returned to his base," Martouf added. "I believe there is no current threat here. We could find no trace of humans in the surrounding terrain."

Markus nodded, not surprised by the news. "Good. So Valhalla Sector didn't leave us any surprises. Did you bring the analyzer and the healing device?"

"The analyzer we left in the tel'tak," Rosha said. "We didn't think you wanted us to carry it. But we have a healing device."

He flashed a smile. "Thank you. I -- " He broke off as the security team approached.

"Good news, nobody shot at us," Lee reported. "I'd like to send some scouts outside to check things out and make sure."

Markus gave his assent, and said, "We'll be down in the infirmary."

\---+---

Sam was floating. She had the vague feeling she should do something, but it was too much trouble to move.

A warmth spread through her body, making her tingle, sending her blood rushing from one end to another. It felt wonderful and familiar, and somehow comforting. She had to open her eyes and find out what it was.

There were clear blue eyes above her, their gaze restful and kind. "Martouf," she said, smiling. Glad he was back.

"Rest, Samantha," he murmured, smiling gently back at her.

Then she relaxed and let sleep take over.

\---+---

Jack stood next to Daniel as Martouf used the healing device on Carter. She woke up briefly during the process and got a drugged, goofy smile on her face, but she looked better when she went back to sleep.

"Finished," Martouf announced as he straightened. "I have mended her leg and her ribs. One of us may need to use the device again, if she continues to have pain, but by tomorrow she will be able to walk. Sleep is now best for her." He turned to Jack, and handed the healing device to Jolinar. "Your wounds are not life-threatening, but as you know about us, there is no reason for Jolinar not to mend them as well."

He glanced at her, forced a little smile, and then said, "No offense, but I'd rather Markus -- Malek -- do it. If you would," he added with an inquiring lift of his eyebrows at Markus.

Markus hesitated only slightly. "Of course."

"I will watch the door," Teal'c offered and moved across the room, to make sure no one entered and saw their leader using an alien device.

Jolinar folded her arms, definitely offended, but Jack didn't really care. He wanted a Tok'ra he trusted to tend to him. He sat down on one of the infirmary beds.

Markus took the healing device, and Jack could tell it was Markus, by the cautious way he handled it. So he teased, "You sure you know what you're doing?"

"No. But I don't think it'll kill you," Markus retorted. "Sit still." He brought the device closer, lowered his eyelids, and inhaled a slow, deep breath. The side of the device nearest Jack began to glow with soft golden light and he felt a tingle pass across his skin that turned warm wherever he had cuts and bruises. Last, he had the impression of a ghostly touch inside his head. It didn't hurt, but it felt odd, and he was glad when it was over, and not just because he felt better.

Markus stepped back, looking quite pleased with himself. "That wasn't hard at all." He turned and headed for the door. "Joaquin's in the next room. Broken collarbone and arm, and probable internal injuries -- "

"Think twice, Markus Alexander." Teal'c stepped in his way. "That would certainly reveal the presence of advanced technology. It will also reveal your ability to use such technology."

Markus glared at him, "I'm not going to let Joaquin die to protect my secret."

"Allow me," Jolinar strode forward, her hand out for the device. "I will heal his internal injuries, but leave the external ones. If he realizes that someone came to his aid, it will not be you he remembers. Is this an acceptable compromise?"

It seemed to be. Markus nodded and gave it to her. "All right. I'm going back down to the power relay room to see about connecting the chappa'ai. I could use your help, Martouf."

The other Tok'ra agreed, but before they could go, Jack asked, "What about Waverly?" Markus' look of disgust prompted him to add, "Not like I care, I was just wondering."

"Let him stew. We've got better things to do than reassure him."

Jack had no intention of reassuring Waverly about anything -- gloating, maybe -- but he let it go, reminding himself that it wasn't his job. "So, what are you going to do with him?"

Markus didn't smile, but his face reminded Jack chillingly of Baal's for a moment. "Don't worry, I have a plan."

Of that, Jack had no doubt. "Anything we can do?"

"There's plenty to clean up," Markus told him. "Feel free." He led the two Tok'ra out, leaving SG-1 alone.

"Cleaning wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Jack grunted, pulling a chair over to sit next to Carter's bed. She still looked pale. The healing device could work wonders, but it was not a cure-all.

"You should get some more rest, Jack. That healing took a bit out of you, too, you know," Daniel advised. "Teal'c and I can go lend a hand."

He was going to claim he wasn't tired, when a yawn overtook him. "All right, all right, I'll take a nap."

\---+---

As a quiet, relieved evening fell over the mountain, Markus left the cafeteria. The halls were empty of would-be bodyguards, and Markus was able to make it to the restricted area without encountering anyone. He opened the security door. Inside he found Teal'c sitting cross-legged on the floor, talking to Meaghan. An empty tray sat on the table and another had gone through the autoclave indicating that Meaghan too had eaten dinner.

"Hello, Markus," Meaghan spoke in her husky voice. "You look tired."

"Why is it you say that every time I come in to see you?" he said, as he sat down, with a nod to Teal'c.

"Because it's true?" she countered, not put-off by his complaint. "Have you eaten?"

He rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. "Yes. I just came from dinner."

"I bet it was a working dinner," she chided.

"Can't really avoid those. Certainly not today. We're in pretty good shape, considering." Considering a _**bomb**_ had gone off and people had died. It was a sad state of affairs when he had to console himself with how much worse it could have been.

"So Teal'c has been telling me." She paused and then added, "He brought me dinner. I've been asking all kinds of questions about his world and society. I find the Jaffa quite interesting."

"Well, maybe we can figure out how tretonin works in this reality and try to free the Jaffa from their dependency," Markus offered.

'_Now you want to free all the Jaffa as well?'_ Malek asked, incredulous. '_That is a very ambitious project.'_

'_Not today, or even soon. And I'm not saying it has to be me,'_ he said. '_But surely it's in the Tok'ra's best interest to free the Jaffa from the Goa'uld?'_ Malek agreed, but still seemed unsettled by the whole idea.

Teal'c stood up and gave a deep nod of his head. He reached into one of the pouches of his combat vest and very gently laid a small vial filled with blue liquid on the table. "This sample will assist you. I would advise you to seek out Master Bra'tac of Chulak. He is the one who taught me to open my eyes to the false gods and may be willing to hear of tretonin."

"We'll do that," Markus said to Teal'c. "Thank you for all your help, Teal'c. And your protection."

"It is my honor," he said and left, taking the trays with him. Markus bet the big man would be sitting in the hall outside the door very soon.

They were silent. Markus absorbed the absence of demands and the quiet hum of the ventilation system. Never would he take that for granted again. It was such a miracle that Sam and the others had come.

"What are you thinking about?" Meaghan asked. "Your hands keep twitching."

"How things would have been different if the four hadn't come through the ring. I'd probably still be a prisoner at Valhalla, or dead."

"I think we would've found a way," she answered. "Nobody here -- not me, not Lee, not Erin, nobody -- was going to leave you there, Markus."

He wasn't sure how that would possibly have happened, but he was willing to let it go. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough to think about, without worrying about 'what ifs'. He pulled the cot from the back wall to a spot next to the window, and stretched out, facing Meaghan. She stood next to the glass, looking both fierce and worried. He was content to watch her, and try to absorb that they were both still alive.

"Now that the new generator is hooked up, does that mean those four will go home?" Meaghan asked, breaking into his reverie. "Teal'c thinks it should take Sam only a few hours to finish hooking it up to the computer."

"She'll have to test everything, but I suppose they will. Leave soon, I mean. I don't want them to go."

"You took a risk with them, and you were lucky," she said.

That was certainly true. But he'd known from the beginning that he could trust them. Somehow, like with Jeremiah and Kurdy, he'd known they would be assets. They'd brought him so much, especially Malek, and the chance to make a long time dream come true. He propped his head up on one elbow and looked up at her. "I'm going to cure you, Meaghan. I'm gonna get you out of that glass prison and let you see the sun."

"That will be the second best day of my life," she said with the warm smile that always made his heart beat a little faster. "You sure you can trust these Brothers to keep Waverly and not let him go?"

"I think so. But if not, I'd rather find that out with Waverly, than with you. I promise, as soon as I'm sure that I can trust them, I -- we -- will get you out of there."

"I know. I've waited fifteen years, Markus. I can wait however long it takes," she reassured him softly.

He put his head back down and his eyes drifted shut. Jolinar had the analyzer and with it he could begin the process of making the antidote and vaccine. His people would continue rebuilding and clean-up. Waverly would learn his fate tomorrow. And the four friends from another world would leave. He would plan another meeting, including Valhalla Sector, and this time they'd get a chance to start discussing the shape of the future. His mind floated, carried away by his ideas and plans, until sleep claimed him.

Meaghan smiled at him with love shining from her eyes and then joined him in sleep, comforted by his presence on the other side of the glass.

\---+---

Jack waited until everyone in the mountain had eaten and the cafeteria was about to close before arranging a tray with the leftovers.

"Late night snack?" one of the workers joked.

"No," Jack answered. "Food for the prisoner. I wanted it to be as unappetizing as I could get. Cold is good. Congealed is even better." With a shared smirk, the colonel left the cafeteria to head up to the brig.

When Markus had heard at dinner that Waverly hadn't eaten all day, he'd offered Jack the chance to gloat, which Jack had accepted eagerly. There was a spring in his step as he came to the outer doors. The guard gave him a thumbs up, and Jack opened the door and stuck his head in.

"Herrrre'sss, Jonny!" he called out cheerily as he walked in, mimicking the line from the Stephen King movie. Waverly ought to remember it.

"You!" he spat.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Not." Jack slid the tray into the cell. "At least you're still breathing. Be thankful." When Waverly made no move toward the tray, Jack urged, enjoying himself, "Eat. It's not poisoned, I promise."

Waverly demanded furiously, "What happened to Colonel West?"

"Dead," Jack answered. "Along with his whole unit."

Waverly glared at him. "You're lying. If he is, how did you get the power up and running? Susan assured me you had nothing in this hellhole that would fix it."

"Obviously, she was wrong. I admit it took an hour or so, but never discount the resources here. They're an amazing bunch of kids," Jack let the admiration show in his voice.

Waverly kept looking at him suspiciously. "West is really dead?"

"The words I heard were 'utterly destroyed'," Jack knew his good mood alone should be convincing enough. "Your puppet government is gone. Kaput. Charlie said something about him and Makepeace having control of the military, not that I totally agree with that, but it's not my problem. They're working on elections and getting an interim government worked out with Thunder Mountain's guidance."

Waverly sneered. "Their domination, you mean. So, what about me?"

"So glad you asked. Markus has a plan. Apparently he always has a plan," Jack added wryly. "I don't know what it is, but he seems very happy with it. When he has a chance, no doubt he'll tell you. For now, make yourself comfortable. And eat up, your food's getting cold," he added with a sly grin.


	43. Chapter 43

Sam woke up leisurely, feeling too cozy to bother getting up yet. All too soon thoughts of the recent past intruded and she opened her eyes to see what was going on.

She recognized the infirmary, even though it wasn't quite the infirmary she knew the best. She glanced around, finding Daniel sacked out on the other bed. At first she worried that he was injured, but going by the snoring and that he appeared to be fully dressed, she figured he was probably all right.

Tentatively she sat up, remembering how much it had hurt to do that yesterday. But her ribs didn't even twinge. When she bent her knees to swing them over to the floor, the one she'd hurt ached, but nothing more.

She had a vague recollection of Martouf's blue eyes, and realized he must have returned and used the healing device on her. She really should find him and thank him for that.

Sam was on her feet, when a woman's voice spoke from the doorway. "Good morning."

Looking toward the doorway, Sam saw Tess, who was poised there with her arms folded and a disapproving expression on her face. "How do you feel?" she asked. "No, don't tell me. You feel fine."

Sam gave her a smile, crossing to her and going outside to the corridor, to let Daniel catch some more sleep. "Well, actually, yes, I do."

Following, Tess shook her head in puzzlement. "You shouldn't be able to_** walk**_," she said. "Not with a knee like that."

Sam had no idea what to say. The Tok'ra were not her secret to tell, and she didn't know what, if anything, Markus had already said. So she shrugged. "It's much better. A little ache but nothing a few aspirin can't fix. What time is it?"

"A little after nine," Tess answered, not distracted by the question "Fine, Sam, you can go. But I'm going to ask Markus about his two new friends. I'd like to know how they did it, before I bring the matter to the rest of the council."

Taking it for the warning it was, Sam nodded. "I'll tell him, if I see him. Have you seen Colonel O'Neill? Jack?" she added, when Tess didn't seem to know who she was talking about.

"He was here but I kicked him out yesterday. I have no idea where he is now."

"Oh, okay, I'll go look for him. Thanks."

Sam left the infirmary, eager to find some friends, food, and take a look at the generator, not necessarily in that order. She remembered trying to help Markus fix the generator, and presumably he had since she was breathing, but she thought she'd better make sure it was operating properly.

Although her knee felt all right, she thought it better not to test it on the stairs and took the elevator. She found a team including Teal'c hard at work clearing the debris in the corridor on 25.

He came to her with a nod of his head and a pleased light in his dark eyes. "Major Carter, you appear recovered."

"Yeah, I'm fine. What about the colonel?"

"Asleep. He was afflicted with the return of entropic cascade failure yesterday, shortly after the explosion." His expression subtly shifted to serious and worried.

She bit her lip. If Teal'c was that concerned, then the colonel must not be doing too well. "We need to get him home. I'll get to work on the Stargate." She paused and asked in a lower voice, "That was Martouf who healed me, right?"

"Indeed, it was. He and his mate returned last night." He cocked his head to one side and added, "She is in the new generator room."

Down the hall, was what Teal'c meant, and her stomach twisted up in knots. Jolinar. And Rosha. Could she work with them? Then she realized she was being foolish again. Jolinar didn't know her, and she certainly had no idea that Sam had been her host, however briefly. "I'll go see her, then. Thanks, Teal'c."

The whole place was a mess, Sam saw, as she ducked under the hanging wires and went through the blasted wall into the room. It gave her a cold feeling to look at the damage, and know that she was extremely lucky to be alive, not to mention feel as good as she did.

Jolinar was there, sitting on the floor, sorting through electrical cords. She glanced up. When she spoke, even though it was a human tone, Sam knew it was still Jolinar speaking. "Sam. It is good to see you are awake and well."

"Thank you for that."

Jolinar returned to her work. "It was," she hesitated briefly. "... Marty's doing, none of mine."

"Well, then I should thank him. Where is he?"

"Outside, bringing the analyzer and resequencer that Markus requested," she answered.

"And where's Markus?" Sam asked.

"Asleep, last I was told. I planned to connect the chappa'ai to the computer system before he woke, so he would not take it upon himself. He and Marty completed the connections to the power supply yesterday." She gestured to the nest of wiring on the floor and grimaced a little. "But this equipment is so ... _primitive_," she growled the last word in pure frustration.

Sam smiled. "Doesn't help that it got blown up."

Jolinar glanced her way again and almost unwillingly, returned her smile. "True. Though I cannot believe it was much improved before that." She pointed to the generator. "Unlike that. It appears to be very useful and efficient."

Sam shrugged and bent over the table to take a closer look at the generator. "It's come in handy." The device was quietly humming away at half power. It seemed none the worse for being in the explosion, and Markus' connections to the power system were all well done.

"Here, let me help." She sat down next to Jolinar and figured out she was trying to gather equipment to take below and attach to the gate. But Sam felt awkward, as if she ought to be saying something. She kept turning her head to look at Jolinar, or really, the host Rosha and looking away.

Jolinar called her on it swiftly. She faced Sam and arched her brows. "You keep looking at me oddly. Was my counterpart in your reality so different?"

"No, no," Sam assured her and then flailed around in her head for something to say to explain it that would sound remotely reasonable. "Not different. It's just, like I said, you're dead. The other you. It's so strange."

"You recognized us," Jolinar mused aloud. "So Rosha was my last host?"

Sam hesitated, all of her memories of her time as a host flashing to the fore of her mind. She couldn't bring herself to agree, not quickly enough.

But Jolinar read something else in her expression and she nodded once in comprehension. "You were my last host. I died in you."

They were not questions, but Sam nodded anyway, feeling miserable that Jolinar knew and yet relieved it was out in the open. "Cronus sent an ashrak. The ashrak killed Rosha, you spent a little while in a man, trying to hide, and when Cronus attacked the world, that host was shot. You came into me, while I was there trying to evacuate some of the people to Earth. But the ashrak followed, jumping from host to host, hunting you. And he caught us. You let yourself die, to save me." Sam had to stop, remembering how terrible she had felt when Jolinar had died. They'd barely gotten to know one another as proper host and symbiote and then she was gone.

Sam swallowed hard, trying to get control of herself, "And now I have all these feelings and memories that I don't know what to do with half the time. I try to push them away, but it's so hard seeing you again."

"And seeing Martouf," Jolinar added quietly, her voice gentle with understanding. At Sam's glance of confusion, Jolinar managed a sad smile, "I know what I would feel if he died and appeared again before me. If you feel half of that, then I am sorry that I have caused you such confusion and sorrow. I cannot speak for the other Jolinar, but I wish things had happened differently for you."

Hearing the words made her feel as if she was hearing them from 'her' Jolinar, even if that wasn't true. Letting out a long breath, she nodded, "That's good to hear. Thank you."

"You are welcome." Jolinar inclined her head once, with a graceful fall of her dark honey hair. She indicated the pile between them with her hand. "Shall we?"

Relieved that she could now focus on her work, Sam agreed and started to gather up the equipment to take down to the gateroom.

With Jolinar's help, she could attach the Stargate to the computer in an hour, and then start the tests. She would probably need to write some extra code to mesh the system together, plus some safeties. Markus would need an operable Stargate after all, just in case. She could also input in a few useful addresses...

Her mind abuzz with the tasks ahead, Sam led the way down to the gateroom to start her work.

\---+---

Markus woke with a start at the sound of the door opening.

"Rise and shine, campers. The day's a-wasting," Jack announced in a sunny voice. He walked over to Meaghan. "Boy, that just rots, being stuck in there like that." He knocked on the glass. "Oh, I'm Jack O'Neill."

"I guessed," Meaghan replied wryly. "Markus failed to tell me of your, uh, enthusiasm."

"Probably 'cause I didn't have any before."

Daniel followed Jack and slid a breakfast tray into the port. He turned on the vacuum to evacuate the port and leaned down toward Markus, whispering, "It's past ten, you know."

Markus sat up in alarm. He'd nearly slept the clock around. '_Malek, why didn't you wake me sooner_?'

'_I was sleeping_.'

Martouf brought up the rear, carrying the molecular analyzer and the genetic sequencer. Meaghan asked, eyeing him with suspicion. "And you are?"

Daniel introduced the Tok'ra, while Markus looked at the machines with longing. How he wanted to start right away, but first things first. He looked at Jack. "You saw Waverly last night?"

"He's nice and cozy in his cell. Still defiant, but I told him West's whole unit was wiped out. He wasn't happy. He did ask what was going to happen to him. Which I don't know."

Markus ignored the implicit question and shook his head. Trust Jack to find a way to have fun and torture the prisoner at the same time. "How's everything else?"

"Everyone seems to be enduring your sleeping the day away," Jack teased. "Repairs are ongoing. Carter's busy hooking up the ring to the computer. Power lines are ready to go."

"You'll be leaving soon."

Jack lost his smile. "Looks that way. Gonna miss you, kid."

Markus tried to feel insulted with being called a kid, but he'd heard Jack address his whole team that way, so maybe it was a term of endearment. More of a mockery of his advanced years rather than a put-down on their lack of years. "We'll miss you, too."

"You know, to test out the gate, we could go to another planet first?" Daniel suggested. "Then you could see what traveling through it's like. Just a quick trip out and back, hardly anyone would know you were gone."

Markus thought about it. He was tempted, yet there was so much to do here. He had no wish to deal with the problems of the galaxy when his own home was in such need of help. And if something went wrong, and he couldn't get back home? He shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but no. I'll stay here for now." He looked over at Martouf. "Are you going to leave today too?"

"No. We will stay and help with the repairs," Martouf answered. "Garshaw has given us a few days. We will also fly back to Seth's base and observe. We need information before we can act."

Malek radiated pleasure at his friend's words. Markus smiled. "Good. Well, before I tackle the rest of the world, I need a shower, fresh clothes, and coffee." He looked at Daniel. "Did you drink my cup on the way?"

Jack cuffed Daniel on the shoulder. "Told you he'd notice."

Markus chuckled, but it was more to cover his sense of loss. He didn't want them to go. But he had no choice, no more than they did.

He headed to the door. "Let's go, campers. Lots to do today," he called out and he heard Daniel laugh at his mimicry.

\---+---

Just after one in the afternoon, Markus had announced through the public address that he was going to pronounce Waverly's future in the garage. Daniel and Jack hustled upstairs to watch and found a spot off to the side of the crowd, not far from Jeremiah and Kurdy. The other two Tok'ra were also there, even though they had been helping Sam downstairs earlier. The audience seemed to be mostly Thunder Mountain residents, but Theo was there, along with some other stragglers from the St. Louis meeting, who were no doubt curious about what sort of decision Markus was going to make.

Markus was talking to Erin, Andrew, and Sarah, when Teal'c and Lee brought in a cuffed and gagged Waverly. They put him in the single chair in the middle of the floor and he glared hatefully at Markus. He'd been allowed his uniform jacket again, so he looked official and certainly not pitiable at all.

Turning from his friends, Markus watched, and the crowd gradually fell silent.

Markus cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that carried to the back of the room. "A few months ago, I remember, I told the advisory council that I was tired of pronouncing sentence on people, that I didn't have the _**right**_ to determine whether someone lives or dies. But the fact of it is, if I have the authority then I also have the responsibility. Just because I don't like it, doesn't mean I can't or I won't exercise it. And sometimes, putting that decision �" that burden �" on someone else is wrong, when it should belong to me."

He continued, gesturing toward the old man in the chair, "General Thomas Waverly has been the leader of Valhalla Sector since the Big Death. In some ways, I admit, we're not that different. We both possess ultimate control over the weapons left over from the old world. We both wanted to unite the country, and we both believe our vision is the right one."

Daniel saw several of the onlookers straighten sharply as if they would object to Markus' self-assessment.

But he let no one interrupt, drawing a deep breath. "But when I gathered together nearly two hundred regional leaders to begin the process of writing a constitution and forging a working democracy, he attacked it with tanks, and rockets, and guns. Many people died, and the rest were taken prisoner. He could have joined us. He could have worked with us. But he didn't. He ordered that the prisoners be tortured. He presided over a show trial for myself and Daniel Jackson, claiming we were traitors, among other things, and sentenced us to death."

His hands clenched to fists, and a shadow passed through his eyes, at the memory of his own torture. Daniel took an abortive step forward, wishing Markus didn't have to do this now, when the memory was still so fresh. But Markus kept control of himself and looked at Waverly like no one else existed.

"For fifteen years, this man has sought the secrets of the Big Death, to bring it back as a tool of terror and control," he added more softly. "He has used children as experimental subjects and let them die painfully alone. He has ordered the burning of entire towns and the deaths of all their residents to hide what he was doing and to clean up failures. But the Big Death is gone, General Waverly. Doctor Samuels and Doctor Fukizaki are dead. My people are in the process right now of dismantling and destroying all of your scattered laboratories around the country. Major Kawalsky is cleaning up Valhalla Sector. It's over. All but the question of what to do with you."

He paused, and the audience seemed to grow tense as they waited. After a moment, he continued, "I could do to you what you did -- and promised to do -- to me, Waverly. I _**could**_, make no mistake about it. A part of me wants to, and I don't think a single person here would protest too much. But I'm not like you." He leaned forward, eyes suddenly blazing, and repeated more strongly, "I. Am. Not. You." A frozen moment passed, before he let it go. "But don't think that makes me weak."

"My sentence is this: you live, Thomas Waverly. You will go to a place where they understand people like you. A place where they teach people to serve and to be humble. Where they try to make amends for the sins of the old world, in the hope that this new world will have compassion and mercy in it, even if learning the lesson of mercy may be a very hard one. The Brothers will keep you safe," he raised a hand and made a small gesture to come forward. A man stepped out a pace from behind one of the Jeeps. He was wearing a brown monk's robe, his face hidden by his deep cowl, but he nodded at Markus' words.

"Perhaps in time you will be a useful member of society again," Markus said and finally lifted his eyes off Waverly to look at Lee. "Make sure he's settled with the Brothers securely."

Lee nodded sharply. "I will," he promised, and he and Teal'c escorted Waverly through a small connecting door with the monk trailing them.

Markus took a deep breath and addressed the gathering. "If anyone has business with me, I'll be happy to hear it later. For now, we're done."

In the general hubub of conversation that followed his departure, Jack leaned into Daniel's shoulder and muttered, "Did we really want to put a Tok'ra in charge of the planet?"

Daniel smiled wryly and shook his head. "I don't think Malek said a word, Jack. That was all Markus."

"Really?" Jack asked, surprised, then got a thoughtful look on his face. "Well, that's good. C'mon, let's go get our stuff. If Carter's test goes well, we'll be out of here before dinner."

\---+---

It was time. Jack stood twitching, watching as Carter did last minute things to the computer in Markus' office, while Markus and Martouf watched closely. While he mostly couldn't wait to get home, there was a part that wanted to stay. They'd made some really good friends. Or reconnected with old friends, like Charlie and Jennifer and even Makepeace. He also wanted to see how it all turned out. He wanted to watch Thunder Mountain and the Tok'ra kick Seth's ass. But this reality was slowly killing him, and he knew he had to go.

Then there was the part that wondered if they'd even be able to get home. What if they went back to that Ancient planet and found themselves in yet another alternate reality? That would suck.

Jeremiah came into the cafeteria and stood next to Jack. "This gonna work?"

"Hope so."

"Those friends of Markus', Marty and Jo-Lynn. I think I figured it out."

"Yeah?" Jack asked, still staring at the Stargate.

"Kurdy told me there are aliens like Seth, but who are good."

"The Tok'ra," Jack answered, deciding against qualifying the Tok'ra as "good" people. They could be annoying, arrogant know-it-alls, but they weren't evil.

"Yeah. Marty's one and so is Jo-Lynn."

Jack wasn't quite ready to give it up yet. "How do you figure that?" he challenged.

"The stuff they brought, it wasn't from Earth. The naquadah. What we went to find at Seth's. Only aliens would know about it. Plus, I know how bad Sam was hurt, and now she's walking around like she was never hurt at all," he waved a hand in her direction. "That didn't happen 'til they came back. What I don't get is how you guys hooked up with them?"

Seeing no reason to continue lying when Jeremiah knew, Jack admitted warily, "There was one inside Valhalla who helped us." He knew he had to be careful. Jeremiah hadn't put together Malek and Markus yet, and Jack knew Markus wanted to keep it that way. But it wasn't going to last long.

"They staying to help us defeat Seth?"

"You bet. The Tok'ra don't want Goa'uld on Earth any more than you do."

"Good," Jeremiah said and fell silent, drawing Jack's attention. The kid still looked haunted, like he'd lost something. Something more than his father.

"Y'know, Jeremiah," Jack said finally. "It's not gonna be easy taking that Goa'uld down, even with their help. He's one dangerous guy."

"No shit."

"Look, I'm a soldier," Jack said, with an uncomfortable shrug, knowing what he wanted to say, but not exactly how to say it. "I mean, I'm not one of those zombies from Valhalla Sector. I try to do the right thing. But I leave the heavy thinking to other people. Like Daniel. He likes to try to make nice with the natives and stuff. That's what he does. Carter fiddles with tech things. That's what she does. I let them do what they do and I watch their backs. That's what I do. Because if they're watching their own backs, they're not being brilliant, and that's a waste. But, being brilliant, they're sometimes… reckless. Prone to taking stupid chances or not paying attention to a danger right in front of them."

Jeremiah turned to look up at the briefing room window, and Jack followed his gaze, to see Carter, Markus, and Martouf. All three were talking, and looked very intent over the computer. Jack was sure an entire squadron of Jaffa could have wandered in the room behind them and none of them would have noticed.

"Yeah, I know," Jeremiah answered. "There's big picture people and little picture people. And the big picture people pull crazy stunts like going to St. Louis because they think they should."

"Exactly. Now I'm not going to be here -- well, I am, or another me is -- " Jack got tangled in that whole alternate self thing and gave up with a groan. That would be one thing he wouldn't be sorry to leave. "My point is you're a good man, Jeremiah. Your dad taught you right and wrong. And for fifteen years he gave you a goal, and that was great, because it helped you survive. But now, you've got something else that needs you. Stop wandering, stop searching -- because you found what you were looking for."

Jeremiah turned his head and frowned at him, like he was trying to be upset but not quite getting there. "Oh yeah?" he challenged mildly. "And what's that?"

Erin had been coming up to them and heard the last part. She laid a hand on Jeremiah's arm. "What we all want, Jeremiah," she told him with a wide smile. "Family. You're part of it now, and we don't let go easily."

She tugged on his arm, and he followed unresisting, as she took him back to where Kurdy and Elizabeth were waiting.

Jack watched, feeling satisfied. Jeremiah was a smart kid -- it might take a little while, but he'd figure it out.

"I think we're done, sir," Carter piped up from behind him, and reflexively he glanced up at the windows to see they were empty.

"Dial away, then."

Jack watched as the gate began its cumbersome journey around and around, locking each chevron into place. Markus had joined Erin and the others, and they were all watching with rapt expressions. The last chevron locked and the vortex whooshed out then back in, leaving the shimmering blue of the event horizon.

"Guess this is it, folks," Jack turned around. "Last chance. Sure you don't want to come, Markus? Step through the gate and see what a different world is like?"

Markus shook his head once. "My place is here. But maybe, someday… " He looked at the event horizon, with the remnants of the prodigy he'd been in the hungry look.

Jack nodded, understanding the desire. He wished he could stay, even if it was just to watch the fireworks as the Tok'ra leadership had to deal with Markus' stubbornness. "Good luck with Seth. Take him down hard; he deserves it."

Erin came up and gave Sam a hug, then moved to Teal'c, Daniel and lastly him. Markus shook his hand, clasped arms with Teal'c in Jaffa-fashion, and hugged Sam. He hung on to Daniel for much longer and murmured something in his ear that made Daniel smile and shake his head.

Then, all too soon, it was time.

Teal'c took point and started up the ramp. Sam went second, followed by a reluctant Daniel. Jack went last, and with a final wave, entered the gate.

**\---+---**

**P6X318**

They stepped out of the event horizon to find a glimmering green world.

"Carter, is this my imagination, or did the planet become a giant vinca vine while we were gone?"

What had once been a barren, dusty world had been over taken by ground cover two or more feet high. The leaves were green; the flowers also green. The stems and even the dirt looked green.

"It certainly has changed," Daniel agreed, also looking stunned. "I don't see any other color. It's like were looking through--"

"Green-colored glasses?" Jack finished for him. It did feel like his sunglasses had some kind of filter on them. The place was still green as far as they could see. Even the damn arches were greenish.

"The arches are still present," Teal'c interjected. "They are the reason we are here."

"But are they the same arches?" Jack countered, as Carter passed him on the ramp and headed into the foliage.

Buried in the overgrowth, she unearthed the MALP. "I believe so, sir."

Jack gave a sigh of relief. "Okay, it's the same place, just changed. But we've only been gone two weeks. How is this possible?" He felt a deep inner cold, wondering if they'd also shifted in time as well as reality. That would make it even harder to get home.

"Maybe when we used the arches, it brought energy to the planet and revitalized the plant growth," Daniel suggested. "Before us, who knows how long it had been since someone else showed up? Maybe thousands of years."

"We need to find the key. What else did Mister Smith say?" Jack asked Carter.

"That it was close to the ring. We didn't have to look far."

"Okay. I don't see anything but the arches, the big stick, and the dialing device. And lots of green. No big sign, no little map, nada."

Daniel and Carter both rolled their eyes and began hunting on either side of the gate ramp. The thick foliage made seeing the ground difficult, but whatever the key was, had to be visible above it, he told himself.

"A key can be a lot of things," Daniel interjected, as he brushed away the viney plants at his feet. "I don't think it's a key that goes into a lock, but more of an instruction manual on how to tune or work the arches."

"So, you're saying it's a book?" Jack asked incredulously. "Gosh, and I left my library card at home," he grumped, fed up with all the obstacles in his way of getting home.

Daniel shook his head. "Don't be obtuse," he sniped back. "Wish I could have met your Mister Smith. There's so much I would have like to ask."

"And he couldn't have answered until he'd checked with God first."

"Yet here you are doing what he told you to," Daniel returned, catching Jack off guard.

"What else can we do? Just walk in and hope it sends us back where we belong? I don't think so. I want better odds."

While Jack and Daniel had been arguing, Teal'c had wandered off, pacing concentric arcs between the left side of the gate to the right, making wider turns each time.

"I think I have found something, O'Neill," Teal'c announced, breaking into Jack's pessimistic thoughts. Teal'c was pounding the end of his staff against the ground. "There is something under these weeds."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

They joined Teal'c who happened to be standing just to the left side of the first arch. He pounded the staff again making a shallow, metallic thumping sound. Carter crouched down and tore off the tangled growth, revealing a flat stone approximately a meter in diameter. It had some markings on it, including two shallow oval depressions.

"It looks like one of those decorative tiles in my garden," she said with a curious, frown, as she dusted it off with the palm of her hand. She glanced from the round disk to the arches. "It appears to be made of the same material."

"It looks like someone stepped onto it with bare feet before it hardened. What kind of decoration is that?" Jack asked, puzzled. It reminded him of the time his family had poured a new garage floor and they'd all put their handprints and the date into the wet floor for posterity. As much as the idea of long ago Ancient-kidlets putting footprints into the stone appealed to him, he didn't think it was too likely.

Daniel pushed Jack out of the way and perused the stone. Jack couldn't see any writing. A few squiggly lines on top and a few more on the bottom, but those were definitely not the Ancient writing he had so painfully learned.

Suddenly Daniel sat down and began taking off his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Jack demanded, appalled.

Daniel grinned up at him. "They're stepping stones," he replied in the tone of voice he used for great discoveries. "This is the key. We need to step in these footprints and the arches will be able to read what reality we're from. But it needs to interact with living tissue," he explained.

Daniel stood up and lifted one foot and then the other and fit them within the indentations in the flat stone. "See, stepping stones," he repeated, standing with both feet within the depression.

His brain filled with terrible memories of the Ancient head-grabber thingy, Jack got ready to pull him out. "And you figured this out how?"

"By reading the instructions." He pointed at the squiggles. "Put feet here," he added, looking proud of himself.

All conversation stopped as the stone began to glow. First it looked green, the exact color of the plant life around it, but then it began to change. First darkening to brown, then finally resolving into an orangy-red hue. The surface looked clear, with the color emanating from inside. Just as the arches had done during their first trip.

"It kind of tickles," Daniel said, looking down and watching with wide-eyed amazement.

Jack's arm quivered in readiness, aching to pull Daniel out of there.

"Is it making your feet warm?" Carter asked.

"No. There's no temperature difference. It--" The light went off. The stone returned to its original neutral beige cast. Daniel reluctantly got off the stone and began putting his boots back on.

Jack turned to look at the arches. While he didn't hear anything, he could feel an electrical charge begin building.

"It is beginning to make a high pitched sound, " Teal'c informed them.

"The arches are glowing just like the stone," Daniel observed, looking up.

The arches started with green, but were now shifting to a burnt orange. "The colors are the same. Can I take that as a good sign?" Jack asked, still feeling worried. What if this didn't work? What if they ended up in yet another reality?

"I wonder if the light wavelength denotes the reality? Green is this reality and ours is the reddish," Carter suggested.

They headed beneath the arches. Lightning began to arc and the machine's noise was hurting his ears. Jack saw Daniel hurrying to be able to see anything written on the central spire before they left.

"Hope you're right, because--" the rest of his sentence and thoughts disappeared as the power built to a crescendo, sending them all into unconsciousness.

Something startled Jack to wakefulness. He abruptly sat up, raising his gun, looking for danger. Waves of dizziness sent his stomach rolling, blurred his vision, and made him groan in agony. He cradled his head in both hands and closed his eyes.

A large hand settled on his shoulder. "Are you okay, O'Neill? Do you require assistance?"

"Just give me a minute," he asked, needing time to get his innards back in alignment.

"Why does Jack feel sick?" Daniel asked, coming up behind him, looking unfazed by this new journey. "The first time through, we were all fine."

"Maybe it's because the colonel was the only one who came close to his alternate?" Sam suggested.

Jack didn't care. He just wanted the nausea to go away. "Ya think it worked? Is this our reality?" he asked, hoping and praying it was.

"Only one way to find out and that's to dial home and see who answers," Daniel remarked, reaching down for his hand to help him up. Jack wasn't quite steady, but he wanted to get home.

Daniel went up to the DHD and put in the coordinates for Earth. As soon as the gate activated, Teal'c punched in the code.

"Wait, I want to call ahead, first," Jack told the others and took Daniel's radio. "This is SG-1. Anyone there?"

"SG-1, this is General Hammond. Where have you been? You were supposed to check in two weeks ago."

"Oh good," Jack blurted, glad they weren't going to show up in some other time.

"Is anyone hurt?" the general asked, sounding concerned.

"No, we're fine. We want to come home."

"The iris is open."

Jack was about to step through the gate when he noticed the big, bright, burnt orange flower poking its head from among the green vines. The change had begun. He bet the scientists were going to want to come and investigate and he wasn't sure it was such a great idea. With a sigh of resignation, fatigue, and a longing for his own bed, he stepped into the event horizon, knowing the rest of his team was right behind him.

They were finally going home.


	44. Epilogue

General Hammond walked into his briefing room after SG-1 had gone through medical and taken their seats. They all looked tired, but thankfully in one piece. "Okay, people, tell me what happened to make you totally incommunicado. We couldn't even establish a gate lock on the planet." As he finished asking his question, Major Carter stiffened with a surprised look on her face.

"Sir, before we start, can we try dialing P6X318? I think it was building another charge as we were leaving. I wonder if it's shifted realities again."

"Shifted realities?" George repeated, thinking it was probably a miracle that his team had made it home at all. He shook his head and picked up the phone to call Walter downstairs. "Dial P6X318. See if we can get a lock on it."

SG-1 turned to look out the large window and watched as the gate turned and clicked on the fist six chevrons. The seventh wouldn't lock. Walter confirmed what they had already seen, and George told him not to try again.

"Guess that answers that," O'Neill commented to no one in particular.

"Other reality?" the general asked, sitting back for the amazing story he knew would unfold.

It turned out to be far more horrifying than he had expected.

"That was some experience," he finally expressed after they had concluded the story. "You're all very lucky to make it back."

"We had a lot of help," Daniel said, and George had to nod his agreement with that.

"So, what's been happening here?" O'Neill inquired. "Anybody take out Anubis while we were gone?"

George smiled. "Sadly, no. But right after you left, we received a visit from your father," he said, nodding in Major Carter's direction. "They haven't been having a lot of luck reverse engineering the reanimation device's technology into a weapon. But according to Jacob, Malek has come up with an idea on how to make it work So, I sent Doctor Lee to the alpha site to help create the prototype. I'd like you -- " He stopped when all four of them exchanged looks. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. They'd left out something significant, apparently.

"Why the alpha site?" Sam asked. "Couldn't they use the facilities here at the SGC? My lab is better equipped."

"Apparently Malek refused to come to Earth. Jacob didn't have an explanation for why," George shrugged a little.

They didn't look surprised. Daniel narrated the whole story of who they believed Malek's host to be and their hypothesis of what had happened to him.

"It makes a sad kind of sense," Daniel concluded. "If the NID did force him to come and work for them, and especially if they threatened his family to make him cooperate, he wouldn't want to endanger their lives by magically reappearing as a Tok'ra. That would make him even more valuable to them. I can't say as I blame him for not trusting the military. In fact, it's amazing he's willing to have anything to do with us at all."

George sat back thinking about it. He'd thought Malek was a more typical Tok'ra, disdainful of the Tau'ri, despite Jacob's claims otherwise, but this put a new spin on his reaction. "I agree. He's showing us a small amount of trust; we had better not do anything to betray that trust. Therefore, Major, I'll leave it to your discretion how much you tell him."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Be gentle with him, Sam," Daniel warned. "If we're right, he might be kind of skittish about his identity being blown."

George decided to place a few calls, and see what rotten fruit he could get to fall to the ground. Someone had forced a civilian scientist into Tok'ra exile, and he was going to find out who.

\--- ---

Sam couldn't help sending covert glances at Malek as they worked together. Sam was holding onto the faint hope that his host wasn't Markus, though they were physically identical, since he made no effort to make himself known. To think of such an intelligent and charismatic guy feeling the need to hide behind his symbiote made her incredibly sad.

On her first night at the alpha site, she had asked her father if he knew Malek's host's name. He didn't.

"It's not that unusual, Sam," he'd said. "Many hosts just want to forget their previous lives. He usually only emerges among other Tok'ra. I think it was a year or more before he spoke to me. But that was probably my big Tau'ri mouth scaring him off," he smiled, half-joking, but Sam thought it was probably true.

He paused and added more thoughtfully, "Something happened, we know that. When Malek first came with this new host, it seemed to be a difficult adjustment for them."

"How long ago was that?"

"Not long before I blended with Selmak," Jacob mused. "Maybe seven years ago, or so. His former host, Chuan, was in deep cover in Lord Yu's ranks. Somehow the first prime found out his true identity and Malek had to get out fast. The Jaffa chased Malek for several weeks, but in the end Chuan was shot. They were saved by a stranger, who killed the Jaffa with a weapon of his own invention. Chuan died anyway, and Malek blended with his new host. They returned to us and went immediately to report to Per'sus, which is not a common practice, I should tell you."

Sam nodded. It made sense, though her father didn't understand why. Malek would've learned his host was Tau'ri, and that was important enough to bring to the grand counsel.

"He was assigned to Garshaw's tunnel where he stayed for several years, before being assigned his own. Which was a bit of a surprise, since Malek's never been interested in leading anybody before." He shrugged. "Whoever he is, the host knows a lot. Malek's a chemist; but he's recently moved more into advanced tech and engineering. So I suspect it's really his host who came up with this new idea for the weapon."

"Does he trust you?"

Her father looked taken aback. "Why wouldn't he trust me?"

"Malek wasn't happy when he had to rely on us after he evacuated Raisa."

"It was the rebel Jaffa he didn't trust. He knew, through me, that SG-1 and Earth were to be trusted."

She wasn't sure of that. Markus hadn't said a word around anyone from Earth, not Pierce on Raisa, and not at the Alpha Site or on Pangar.

Her dad had gone back to his work, so she reluctantly had ceased her questions.

When her father had gone to Earth to report their progress to Hammond, she thought she'd have more opportunity to catch Malek alone.

The occasion came when the technicians decided to leave for lunch, but Malek declined, saying he wanted to finish up the calibration of one of the components first. Sam offered to help.

At first they worked in silence, but she couldn't help watching him, looking for signs that Markus was the one in control.

Malek eventually caught her at it, "Have I done something to offend you?"

She laughed guiltily. "No. You haven't. I'm sorry. I'm just thinking about our previous mission and I guess I'm not paying as close attention to what I'm doing as I should."

'_Come on_,' she urged silently. '_Ask me about my mission_.'

"Are you referring to the mission where you were missing for two weeks? Is it not classified?" he asked. "Jacob has led us to believe that you cannot reveal to outsiders what has happened to you."

"I don't consider you an outsider. We are allies," she reminded him gently.

"Yes. We are. I would like to hear. Jacob was most distressed by your absence."

Sam turned away from the bench and faced him squarely. She wanted to see his face as her story unfolded. "We went to a planet that had a device made by the Ancients that transported us to an alternate reality. But, at first, we didn't know that. So, when we went through the gate, thinking we were going home, we ended up at Cheyenne Mountain, but it wasn't the SGC."

"Interesting," he responded. "What did you find?"

Sam pulled her chair up closer to where Malek sat. "The SGC had been transformed into a home for hundreds of kids who had survived a virus epidemic that had nearly killed all living adults back in '89. These kids watched their parents die in front of them. Then they had organized and found a way to survive. They were led by a truly charismatic young man who was the oldest when the virus hit. He was the son of a doctor stationed there, and a genius in his own right, and kept everything running. He was trying to make a better world. He was opposed by the remnants of the military, who'd grown corrupt."

"Was he killed?" He didn't sound very shocked by the idea of military corruption. And he'd lost the symbiote voice.

"No, but not for lack of trying. While we were there, Markus had organized a meeting to create an alliance of all the scattered communities, trying to rebuild civilization."

He tensed at the name, but remained silent.

"Valhalla -- that was the name the military government gave themselves -- they attacked and captured Markus and Daniel. You haven't met Daniel, yet," she added as an aside. "For awhile their situation seemed pretty bleak, but Colonel O'Neill got them out, with the help of a few of the locals, who believed Markus' ideals were worth preserving."

Malek was very pale and she could see his hands clenched at his sides. Yet he managed to keep his voice level. "Did you know this Markus also?" he asked, trying to test whether he could get away with ignorance.

"Not as well as Daniel. They became very close while they were prisoners. But yes, I knew him." She added gently, "He looked exactly like you. We know who you are, Markus."

He stared at her. Shallow, rapid breaths came out his open mouth. Sam thought it was a good thing he was sitting because she doubted his legs would have supported him.

Suddenly his eyes flashed and Malek took over. "You must not reveal what you know to anyone," he cautioned and abruptly left the lab.

Sam sagged into her chair. She had her answer, but wondered what Malek or Markus would do. She wanted to reassure him that the SGC would stand by him and give him any support he needed, but he'd left so quickly she hadn't had a chance.

A little over an hour later, Delek stormed into the lab. "What happened between you and Malek?" he asked, outraged.

"Nothing," Sam answered untruthfully. "Is he alright?"

"He is gone and I was told he went through the gate some time ago." He leaned toward her, glaring. "Without letting anyone know his destination. He was last seen in here with you and I hold you responsible for his flight."

"Did anyone see --"

"No one was close enough to see the address. The Tau'ri are a duplicitous group, and more like the Goa'uld than we are!" He stalked out, letting the door slam behind him.

Feeling wretched, Sam bent her head into her arms. She wanted to cry. What had she done? She should have raced after him and made him understand she would keep his secret. Her own inaction had led to his fleeing the planet. Fear had driven him away, fear that the NID or some group like them would find out and use the knowledge to get him back. Thinking of the morals of the old NID, she had to agree with Delek. Maybe some of them were as bad as the Goa'uld. But not the SGC. Not SG-1.

She hoped he had fled somewhere safe and that he would return and give her a chance to say she was sorry.

\--- ---

The Tok'ra didn't believe in doors, so Markus had chosen quarters at the end of a short corridor for the most privacy. He was pacing there now, feeling ridiculous after the stern lecture given to him by Delek for disappearing for more than a week.

They'd gone back to where he had met Chuan and willingly taken his place as host. He hadn't wanted to deal with the Tau'ri or what Sam and the military now knew about him

Malek had eventually talked him into returning to the tunnels, but not into contacting the Tau'ri. '_I understand your need to hide in a burrow like those rabbits on your world. But I do not believe Major Carter would have turned you over to her government_.'

'_I can't risk my father's life. I won't. She'll have to tell her superiors and from there it'll get to __**them**__. He's all I have left on Earth.'_ He stopped pacing and sank down on the floor, against the wall. The only protection he could offer was his absence, but it was hard. It had been a long time since he'd seen his didn't even know if his father was still alive. Maybe he had died years ago.

A noise from outside caught his attention and Jacob peeked inside. "Hey, you're back. Are you okay?"

"We are well. I thought you were on Earth?" Malek asked.

Jacob grunted in disgust and entered the small room fully. "We're all back. The Tau'ri alliance is over."

Markus and Malek were stunned. "We have cut all ties with Earth?" Markus asked.

Jacob nodded. "At least for now. Everyone's upset after the alpha site was destroyed. At least Sam's going to be okay." He settled on the floor not far away, pulled up his knees and looked toward the open doorway. "In case you were wondering, your father's still alive. He's doing fine."

Markus felt a jolt of panic and shifted as if to stand up, but Malek stopped him.

Jacob turned his head to look at him, and his gaze was kind. "Daniel told me. But no one else knows. There was nothing in their reports that would connect you to anyone in the alternate reality they visited. I could hardly believe what Daniel told me about what happened to you."

His heart was slowing, and the fear was fading into anger at the bastards who had ruined his life. "The part where I got framed for my graduate student's murder and drove my car into the Pacific?" His tone was bitter. "They gave me a copy of my suicide note. It was very convincing."

Jacob nodded. "That, and the part about you getting kidnapped. By the same traitors who were running that artifact theft ring with Maybourne, presumably. What did they want you to work on?"

It was a relief to finally talk to Jacob about it. "Everything. It started with modeling the gate. When I'd done that, I was apparently so _**useful**_ they wouldn't let me go. They made sure no one would come looking because I was dead, and even if I escaped, I'd be a wanted fugitive. At first I told them to go fuck themselves, no matter what they did to me, but then they showed me a video of someone following my dad to work." The implication had been clear enough. He'd known they would do it, too. So he'd caved. He slumped and murmured, "I couldn't fight that. I worked on alien tech, phase cannon, naquadah bombs, whatever they wanted. Eventually they took me through the gate and I got a personal cloaking device working, blew up half the complex to fake my death _**again**_, and escaped. I ended up finding Malek."

He didn't mention the two months on the run, alone in Goa'uld territory before he'd found Malek. His symbiote was the only good thing to come out of all the horror.

Malek's love and support filled him, soothing the ragged emotions and keeping his memories from overwhelming him.

"What if," Jacob suggested tentatively, "you could go back? The NID is crippled now, and they don't have any influence inside Cheyenne. George steps on them like roaches. He'll protect you, Markus."

'_He's right. We could go. I would like to see your homeworld,' _Malek said.

But Markus shook his head. No matter what Jacob said, he couldn't risk it. If he visited Earth, the same evil cycle might begin all over again, with Sean as a hostage for his son's good behavior.

\--- ---

After the burial was over and Carter and Daniel led Cassie away, Jack lingered at the gravesite, looking blindly at the flower- and flag-decked hole that now held the mortal remains of Janet Fraiser.

After a moment, he became aware that someone else in Air Force blues had approached on the other side. Studiously he didn't look up, giving whoever it was a chance to say his own goodbye in private.

"I'm sorry," the other man whispered. "I wish … " he choked up and he had to clear his throat. "I know you wouldn't want me here. And I know it was my own stupid fault. I pushed you away, and I lost both things that ever mattered to me. I should have told you a long time ago. I'm so sorry… "

Jack couldn't help listening, once he recognized the voice.

"I shouldn't have been such a fool," the man continued with painful regret. "I knew you hurt as much as I did. More. But I was so wrapped up in myself, even when you needed me, I couldn't see what I was doing. And so I made you hate me, as much as I hated myself. But you were right, Mary. You were always right. I … I just wanted you to know. Even though it's too late now."

Mary? The odd name caught Jack's attention. He knew Mary was Janet's middle name, but no one called her that. He glanced up.

Colonel Albert Devon Samuels kissed a single red rose and dropped it into the grave. Only then did he look up, right into Jack's face, and realize he wasn't alone. His face first went white and then flushed deep red. He stiffened and clenched his jaw.

Suddenly Jack understood a lot of things that had never come together before. "You and Janet were married," he realized.

Samuels nodded. "We were. A long time ago," he said repressively, to make it clear he didn't want to talk about it.

But too bad, Jack wanted to know some things. "Why'd you call her Mary?"

He could see Samuels' was tempted to ignore him, but he gave a little shrug. "We always called each other by our middle names, from when we met in the eighth grade. She liked calling me Devon," he shrugged again, as if it didn't matter, but then added more softly, looking down at the flowers, "She was the only one who made it sound okay."

Jack inwardly winced, figuring out the story now. High school sweethearts, who had married young and then tragedy struck and it had fallen apart. Like him and Sara, but with an even more bitter ending. Nothing had happened to lift Samuels back up, like Skaara, Daniel, and the Stargate program had done for him.

"You had a child, but he died," Jack said, knowing it was true. He'd never heard anything about it from Janet, or seen a picture, but then, until very recently no one would have looked at his things and known about Charlie, either.

Samuels' throat worked and it took him a moment to find his voice. He didn't look away from Janet's grave. "He was almost five. Meningitis. He might -- he might have lived if we'd gone to the ER. But I didn't think the fever was that bad …" Old pain and guilt threaded his soft voice, full of regret. "She was right. Always a doctor," he observed with a choked laugh. "Even before she was one."

A fresh rush of grief for Janet's loss filled Jack, realizing what he'd missed. He could have told her about her son, grown and well in that other universe, but he hadn't known. Hadn't known, because he'd never asked.

"His name was Jeremiah," Jack murmured. "Wasn't it?"

Samuels jerked as though Jack had hit him. "How the hell do you know that?" he demanded roughly.

Jack looked in his eyes, seeing not the jerk he knew, but the echo of Devon, the one who had sacrificed his life for his son and the cause of hope and freedom. Jack knew what it was like to live in the shadow of regret and guilt until it seemed like there was nothing left. Duty was a cold comfort once one's family was gone, he knew that too. If he could make things a little better, he thought Janet would approve. "You still have clearance for the SGC?" he asked.

Frowning in puzzlement, the other colonel nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

"Come on back to my place," Jack invited. "I should have told Janet, but I didn't know. So we'll drink beer and I'll tell you all about how I got a chance to meet another version of you. And how I met your son."

"You met…" For what felt like a very long time, Samuels stared at him, blinked twice as he considered whether Jack was putting him on or not, and gave a hesitant nod. "I -- I'd like that."

Jack beckoned him to move toward him. "Let's go." When Samuels didn't move, Jack added deliberately, "Devon."

The name startled him into a bit of a smile and he cast a reflexive glance at the grave. But he straightened his shoulders and joined Jack on the path back to the cars, without question or complaint about his choice of name.

Jack glanced at him as they walked and nodded to himself. Maybe Devon was alive in this reality after all.

\--- ---

The flight to Atlanta was uneventful, and Daniel took a taxi to the CDC. He showed his i.d. to the security desk to have them notify Doctor Sean Alexander that he was there for their appointment.

It hadn't been hard to get Hammond's approval to offer the elder Alexander a position at the SGC. His expertise in disease and epidemiology was sorely needed after Janet's passing, but more, it would provide a safe place for Markus and his father to be reunited. He'd persuaded Hammond that the Tok'ra break from the alliance was temporary, and Markus and Malek would eventually come through the gate. Even if they didn't, at least Sean could know what had happened to his son, and the SGC would get a good doctor.

"You don't look like a spook," a man spoke behind him.

Daniel turned around to see a gray-haired man, eyeing him with suspicion. He wasn't as tall as Markus nor resembled him too closely, but there was something in that sharp gaze that was very familiar. "I'm Dr. Daniel Jackson. Pleased to meet you, Dr. Alexander." He held out his hand, which hung unclasped in midair. Self-consciously he returned it to his side.

"Doctor of what?" he asked. It was not a friendly question.

Daniel smiled sheepishly. "Archeology and linguistics."

"Yet you're here representing the military offering me a job."

"What makes you say that?" Daniel asked curiously.

Sean folded his arms. "At least every six months someone offers me one." His lips twisted in an ironic smile. "And here you are. At least your visit tells me Markus is still alive."

Daniel was surprised. "You think he's alive? I thought he was dead?"

Sean snorted. "That's the story, isn't it? But I don't believe it. I never have. I think he fled into hiding. And I won't be used to get him back. So you can tell your bosses that my answer's the same as it always is: I haven't heard from him. Knowing how watched I am, he would never risk contact. He's too smart for that. And if anything happens to me, I have files and protections in place to expose your operation, so leave me alone."

His answer delivered, Sean turned to go, and Daniel blurted, "Sean? Please. I'm not with them, I swear. I just want to talk to you."

He waited, biting his lip, hoping that Sean would listen. Hoping that he would hear something of what Daniel could not say in this very public place.

Sean turned back around slowly, frowning at Daniel. "All right," he agreed finally, with some reluctance.

Daniel understood the wariness and tried to smile, reassuring that he only wanted to help. "Can we go someplace a little more private? I promise you, I have no intentions of forcing you to do anything."

Sean led him into an elevator and up to an empty conference room. "Will this do?"

"Nicely." Daniel took a seat in one of the plushy chairs absently twirling it from side to side. Now he didn't know where to begin. He couldn't get over that Markus' dad was still getting pestered. That meant they knew Markus was alive, they just didn't know where. Markus had been right to be cautious.

"So, what is it?" Sean prompted.

"You're right, sort of," Daniel began. "I was going to offer you a job. But not by coercion and not to keep tabs on Markus. I work for the Air Force, but as a consultant."

"Doing what? What does the Air Force need with an archaeologist?"

"We're involved in tricky first contact situations, and my grasp of languages and education helps them, helps us, communicate with those we are, uh, contacting," he stumbled, wishing this would have gone more to plan.

Sean didn't ask for clarification. Daniel wondered how much he had found out about the NID project that had kidnapped his son. There was information out there if someone was persistent, and he had the feeling that Sean Alexander was at least as persistent as Markus. "And me?" he asked. "What would I be doing?"

"Taking care of soldiers and the occasional civilian that gets caught up in something he can't fight on his own. Lots of research into, uh, foreign diseases, the kind you've never run into before."

Sean hesitated, mulling that over. "You seem to know about Markus and his disappearance. What can you tell me?"

Daniel didn't think Hammond would approve, but he knew if he didn't give some concrete information Sean would never go for this. He dampened his lips, and answered, "As of two weeks ago, he was alive."

Sean thumped back in his chair, his eyes unseeing. "All this time," he breathed to himself. "All these years. I've believed that he was alive. But I didn't _**know**_." He took a deep, though unsteady breath, and rubbed at his eyes. "Where is he?"

"I can't tell you that unless you agree to come work for us and sign some official non-disclosure documents." Daniel realized what that sounded like and rushed to add, "He's not a prisoner, though. And if you say no, we won't do anything to him or to you. That's not what this is about."

"Still sounds like blackmail to me."

"You're right. It does. And there's nothing I can say or do that will persuade you that I can be trusted. I can't blame you for that, after what happened." Daniel got out of chair feeling defeated. He had thought convincing General Hammond would be the hard part. "I just want you to know, I genuinely think you'd like working with us. It was an honor to meet you."

"Sit down, Daniel," the older man said, with some of the snap to his voice that Daniel remembered from Markus. "I admit, you're different from the usual guys. They usually aren't sincere, but use it to let me know they haven't forgotten. What are they going to do if I come with you?"

"I don't know," Daniel answered truthfully. "I do know that once you're with us, they can't touch you."

"So, you're saying I'll be safe with you." The skepticism was back in his voice.

"Safe, no. Safe from them, yes. We do dangerous work, but it's fun, important, and mind boggling." He paused. "Your choice."

"Where is it?"

"Colorado Springs." Daniel began to feel hope that he had talked Sean into joining their team after all.

The two men stared at one another. Sean looked confused, maybe even wanting to believe, but finding it hard. Daniel wanted to reassure him, but could only let him go on gut instinct, because without the signed non-disclosure paper, he'd already said too much.

"Well, you're the first person to confirm he's alive. Give it to me." Sean took the paper from Daniel's hand, and with a quick scrawl, signed his name. "Can I see him?"

Daniel smiled. "He's not here. But we've got a plan to reunite you two, and right a terrible injustice that happened to you and Markus. So I think you will, and soon."

\--- ---

The klaxons sounded signaling an incoming wormhole. Daniel rose from his desk and headed to the gateroom. While researching the scribblings from the latest planet they had visited was important, his mind was not really focused enough to make headway and he could use the distraction. Janet's death last month had hit the whole base hard. At first, bringing Sean on board had helped, but now, he found he couldn't concentrate on anything. He missed Janet.

He met Jack in the hall on the bottom floor. "Got any idea who it is?" he asked, trying to be interested.

"Not a clue," Jack responded as they entered the gate room.

General Hammond was standing at the foot of the ramp. "Tok'ra IDC," Hammond told them as the iris opened.

"Thought the Tok'ra didn't want to play with us anymore?" Jack voiced out loud.

Daniel repressed a smile. It could be Jacob to update them on the dissention amongst the other Tok'ra. Or maybe they'd kicked him out as a human sympathizer.

Daniel's attention was arrested as a single man came out of the event horizon clad in brown Tok'ra garb. It wasn't Jacob. Recognition hit him at the same instant it hit Jack. They exchanged a look of amazement. Hammond, because he was standing in front of them, didn't see. He took a few steps up the ramp. "Welcome to the SGC. I'm General Hammond," he greeted.

The Tok'ra looked around the room, wary and alert, with a hand on his holstered zat. He recognized Jack and took his hand away, focusing on Hammond with a nod. "I am Malek of the Tok'ra, General Hammond. It is good to meet you."

"You're Malek?" Hammond exclaimed. "Then -- "

Malek smoothly cut off anything else he might say. "I have come to offer our condolences for the recent passing of Doctor Frasier. And also to discuss the possibility of reinstating our alliance."

"Oh, yes, of course," Hammond said automatically, sounding confused by Malek's formality.

Daniel stepped forward. "General? Maybe Jack and I should escort Malek to the briefing room?" he suggested. Markus was never going to come forward with all the guards watching and the cameras recording everything.

"Right," Hammond said, with a nod, realizing the same thing. "Of course. I'll join you in a moment."

Jack gestured elaborately, "This way."

But as Malek passed, Hammond couldn't help touching his shoulder and murmuring, "Welcome home, son."

Malek's step faltered, and his mouth twitched as if he would speak, but he followed Jack in silence, while Daniel brought up the rear.

In the stairwell, Jack looked back over his shoulder. "'Bout time you showed up. We've been waiting. Anything in particular you want to catch up on? Sports? T.V? You've been gone awhile."

"Tell me about it," Markus muttered, looking a bit overwhelmed. His hand was very tight on the railing, as they paused there.

Daniel took pity on him. "Jack, give him a chance to settle in before you warp his mind with Tiger Woods and Bart Simpson."

"_The Simpsons_? I loved that show," Markus returned with a nostalgic look in his eyes.

Daniel wanted to talk to Markus, too, but first he'd want to see his dad. "Jack can get you up to date on the stuff happening in Springdale--"

"Spring-**field**," Jack corrected.

"Whatever," Daniel responded nonchalantly, knowing he was giving Jack a taste of his own medicine. "I'm going to grab something from the infirmary before we get started. Jack can keep you company. I'm glad you're here, Markus."

Markus frowned at him, puzzled by the friendliness from someone he didn't know. But they emerged into the corridor, and instantly he was Malek again, with no trace of Markus in his posture or expression.

Daniel walked off, with one glance back, to watch Jack usher Malek into the briefing room. Their gaze met and Jack nodded, knowing exactly what Daniel planned.

As soon as they were out of sight, Daniel hustled back to the stairs and up, until he came out on the main research wing. Sean's lab was just a few doors down. Stopping to catch his breath, Daniel opened the door to find Sean staring at the computer screen doing some sort of genetic analysis. Daniel had no idea what any of it was. He was almost as bad as Jack in this department.

"Sean?" Daniel interrupted. "You got a moment?"

Sean looked over at him, taking a few minutes to bring himself back from his thoughts. "Yes. Has something happened?" Almost before he asked the question, he read something in Daniel's manner that brought him to his feet. "He's here?"

"Just arrived," Daniel affirmed. "In the briefing room. He doesn't know you're here, so we'll have to take it easy --"

"Bullshit! My son is not some hot house flower you have to baby."

With that Sean tore out of his lab and Daniel raced to keep up with him. Sean flung open the briefing room door, with Daniel at his heels. Daniel saw Jack and Malek seated on opposite sides of the table, their discussion interrupted by the noise.

"Markus?" Sean called huskily.

Markus looked up. At first, the blood drained from his face as he stared at his father in shock. Slowly a smile tilted the corners of his lips. "Dad?" he asked in wonder.

Sean rushed to him as Markus jumped to his feet and the two men embraced. Daniel could feel tears well in his eyes. He caught a glimpse of Hammond in his office watching through the partition, and the general gave Daniel an approving nod.

Jack cleared his throat a few times. "Guess _The Simpsons_ can wait," he said, although Markus wasn't paying him the slightest attention.

"Come on, Jack," Daniel urged him from the room. "We can talk to them later."

\--- ---

Jack finally made it home. He plopped groceries on the counter and put away the ones that would spoil, but left the rest in the bags. Pulling a beer out, he went outside taking sips as he sat in one of his lawn chairs. The stars were out and the nights were still getting nippy. Spring was almost over and soon the nights would warm. But now, the fresh air, even with the bite, felt good.

Jack couldn't help the melancholy feelings that pervaded his soul. Yes, it was nice to see Markus reunited with his father, yet the father-son interaction reminded him of Charlie. The only place they'd be reunited was in heaven, if he made it. Taking another drink from his beer, Jack reflected on everything that had happened since their misadventure on the Ancient Time-Shifting Arches Planet. So much had happened, yet, except for Janet's death, he was glad to have experienced it.

What the alternate Markus Alexander had accomplished was a bright light for humanity. There was hope against corruption. In the old good versus evil war, good had triumphed. But it did show how easy it was to breed corruption without the necessary checks and balances. It was too bad Charlie hadn't lived in that reality, it would have been something to see how he would have turned out.

This train of thought made him think of Jeremiah. Even Devon was a surprise. To think of Colonel Weasel Samuels being married to Janet and producing a son like Jeremiah...

Setting his beer down, he went inside and started a fire in his fireplace. Then he rummaged through his utility drawers until he found a legal pad and a pen. Reclining in a chair, he began writing. At first it was to Jeremiah, thanking him for the shared insights and companionship during their campaign to Seth's place. Of course he had to mention Markus and his father, but soon Jack began pouring out his soul to his son. He apologized for not being there when Charlie went for the gun, for even having the gun in the house in the first place, but soon his writing lost the edge of desperation and he wrote of the times they'd had together. Whether it was walks around the block while Charlie was in a stroller, or trips to the hockey rink for games or just a quick trip to McDonalds in the morning so Sara could sleep in, he mentioned them all.

Soon the pad was filled. Saying goodbye was the hardest. Slowly Jack tore out each page, piling them in front of him on the floor. Then one by one, he put them in the fire until only ash remained.

\--- ---

Only a few miles but a whole universe away from Jack, Markus hiked up the trail toward the worn sign that read, "The End of the World." He headed along the path out to the rocky promontory on the shoulder of Cheyenne Mountain.

The sun was high and bright in a clear sky, except for the high narrow clouds, like a child's fingerpainting of white streaks across a field of deep blue. But the view was perfect, overlooking the steeply wooded canyon that separated Cheyenne from its nearest neighbor, with the other peaks and ridges rolling off into the distance. It really felt like standing at the edge of the world.

Meaghan was there, her long black hair whipping backward in the wind, as she looked out at the view. For a moment his heart caught in his throat with fear, since she stood so close to the edge. But then the image took hold in his mind -- there was something fierce and beautiful about the way she stood on the cliff, like a falcon launching from a perch.

She deserved to fly free. He didn't want to let her go, but that was selfish. He'd had her to himself for fifteen years, and he couldn't ask for more. It hurt to imagine her leaving, but also brought a sense of peace, because he knew it was the right thing to do.

Malek, thankfully, kept quiet, perhaps sensing that this was his time alone.

He moved to stand near her, close but still a few feet distant. She didn't turn to look at him, but he could see her smile a little.

After a little while, she spoke, "You promised I would feel the sun on my face and the wind in my hair."

He agreed in as neutral a tone as he could manage, "I did."

"And here I am." Her smile widened with joy, and she waved a hand at the mountains and the incredible, dizzying immensity of the sky. "You kept your promise."

"I had some help."

Her smile dimmed somewhat at the reminder that he was no longer alone, and she turned her head to look at him. "True. And I am thankful to you. Both of you." He just nodded. After a moment, she asked, "So, what happens now?"

"I don't know," he answered and glanced away from her, to look out to the distant peaks and valleys beyond. "I thought you might want to go as far away from your jail and your jailer as possible."

"You were not my jailer, Markus," she said, and her sharp tone made him look back at her face. She shook her head once. "I never blamed you for something that wasn't your fault. You made that jail time worth living. And I'm not leaving, if that's what you're afraid of. I might spend some more time outside," she added with a smile, "But you're not getting rid of me so easily."

He had to return her smile, but couldn't keep it. "I -- you -- we're not the same people we were," he reminded her softly.

"I know," she answered. "But we can't be that different either, not after fifteen years of knowing each other as we do. We'll take it slow, and go on from here. Right?" she asked, the look in her eyes suddenly worried, until he nodded. Then she smiled again, relieved. "But, you know what?" she asked rhetorically. "I think we'll be okay."

He looked in her eyes, shining in the bright sun, and he saw that all the things he loved about her had not changed. He reached out, tentatively, to touch her hand, just as she was reaching for his. At first, it was somewhat awkward, since they'd never done this before, but then her hand gripped his and it was as if they'd been holding hands all their lives.

As he stood at her side, with the wind cool against his cheeks, he deliberately did not think of any of the things he should be doing or any of his plans or fears for the future. He simply focused on living the moment. He was here, and she was here, and for this small eternity, that was the only thing that mattered.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you've enjoyed our story! If you have, we'd love to hear from you, especially if we haven't before! Short or long, it's all good.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Lizardbeth and Lowri, originally posted January 2008


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